


The Luck You Got

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless - Fandom
Genre: Canon Rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 167,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's what you missed on Shameless:</p><p>John Wells & Co lost their minds and wrote a season filled with bad characterization, nonsensical plotting, and spectacularly unfunny "comedy". The Shameless fandom spontaneously combusted from massive heartbreak and crumbled to ash. But then, three fic writers rose from the ashes, determined to fix what had gone wrong. </p><p>Welcome to the real season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By The Skin Of Our Teeth

“Sunny day, sweepin’ the clouds away,” Fiona mumbled to herself, singing along with the theme song coming from the living room. She scoffed quietly as she scribbled on a pad of paper and took a sip of her coffee. “Wish it was that easy.”

“Have you seen my shirt?” Debbie’s voice boomed into the kitchen, amplified through the laundry chute.

“Have to be a little more specific.” Fiona sighed, rising from her seat at the counter. 

“The one I told you I wanted to wear today,” she huffed. “The sleeveless plaid button up.”

Fiona rifled through the clothes in the dryer, producing the green gingham top. “Yep, it’s down here.” She barely finished her sentence before Debbie was running down the stairs, wearing nothing but her leggings and a bra. She snatched the shirt from Fiona’s grasp.

“Oh god, cover that shit up,” Carl said, shielding his eyes as he thumped down the last few steps. 

“Shut up,” Debbie sniped back as she worked on doing up the last few buttons. “You didn’t even see anything.” 

“Only cause there’s not much to see.” Carl grinned, pleased at the sour face and middle finger Debbie shot his way. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Cereal.” Fiona gave them both an almost convincing smile over her shoulder as she took the boxes down from the fridge. “We’re low on options but I should have enough after my shift today to make a decent grocery trip.”

“I thought you had a good week last week? We’re broke again already?” Debbie asked with an accusatory tone, picking up the pad that Fiona had been writing on. 

“Well,” Fiona contemplated while gathering her messy hair and securing it up in a ponytail. “I did but it just doesn’t go far. I was hopin’ to get the word out about daycare now that school’s lettin’ out.”

“What about Lip and Ian?” Carl looked up from dousing his cereal with milk. 

“Ian doesn’t really live here anymore and I’m sure Lip will chip in this summer, but we’re gonna need extra to bankroll the squirrel fund.” 

Carl nodded his head thoughtfully, shoveling his spoon into his mouth. 

“What is this?” Debbie’s face pinched in confusion as she waved the notepad around. “Is this one of your twelve steps or something?” 

“No.” Fiona grabbed for it and missed when Debbie retracted it just out of her grasp. 

“Debs, put it back. It’s just.” Fiona wavered, looking for the right words to describe her list of failures, soon giving up and pouring some juice for Liam. “A personal inventory.”

“It’s like a confessional.” Debbie read aloud from the paper, “Not taking guardianship seriously, breaking parole, endangering Liam, adding water to the milk?” 

“What?” Carl garbled around a mouthful of cereal, milk still dripping from his spoon hanging in mid-air. “Is this watered down?”

“That really what you’re takin’ from that?” Fiona chided, pushing Carl’s head as she walked by to set Liam’s cup down. 

Carl dragged his spoon through his bowl a few times, inspecting the milk before shrugging and loading it with another huge bite.

“So what does this really mean?” Debbie pressed, not letting it go until Frank barged in through the back door, Sheila hot on his heels. 

“Hello, family,” he greeted them all without looking as he walked towards the fridge. “What’s for breakfast?” 

Fiona eyed him as she fixed Liam’s cereal and tightened the cap on the milk. “I have a hard time believin’ Sheila didn’t cook you a nice, homemade breakfast at her house, Frank. You know, where you live now?”

“Yeah, well,” Frank mumbled, his words trailing off as he swung the fridge door open and leaned over to take stock. 

Fiona glanced at Sheila, who was smiling apologetically. “Mornin’, Sheila.”

“Good morning, Fiona. How is everyone today?” She looked around, waiting for answers that didn't come. “Last day of school, isn’t it?”

Neither Carl nor Debbie replied, prevented by the patter of small feet running into the kitchen. 

"Sheila!” Liam squealed as he made a beeline for his step mother. 

“Good morning, sweetie,” Sheila cooed, sitting down at the table and pulling him up into her lap. “How are you today?”

“Very good, thank you,” Liam sung out, Sheila’s eyes lighting up at his imitation of the DVD he had been watching lately.

“No bacon?” Frank lamented, slamming the fridge door closed. “Sheils, we have to go to the store, no more putting it off. I need that bacon. I gotta find a couple propane tanks, too.” He rubbed at the back of his neck in thought before turning to Debbie and Carl. ”I’ll give you two a dollar for every one you can scrounge up. Can’t brew without heat.” 

Fiona quirked an eyebrow as she set Liam’s bowl in front of him, but it was Debbie who spoke up first. “Brew?” 

“Milk of the gods is what I’m calling it.” Frank waved his hands, stretching them in an imaginary banner. “It’s going to be the most potent beer ever created. I’ve been gathering supplies for my underground operation.” 

“And you’re okay with this?” Fiona gave Sheila an incredulous look, not bothering to address her father’s ranting. 

Sheila shrugged and smoothed a hand over Liam’s head. “It’s just a little beer and really, Frank’s been doing so well. He’s maintaining his weight and his vitals are always good. He’s taking his meds and anyway-” She blocked Frank by holding a hand to her mouth and lowered her voice, “I don’t know if he’ll really pull it off.” 

“I can hear you,” Frank chimed in, skimming the list that Debbie had abandoned in favor of some coffee. “Lookey here. Someone’s on step eight!”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed as she reached for it for the second time that morning. “Give me that.”

“Ah ah ah.” Frank spun around, quickly muttering to himself as he read. “I think you missed one. You need to add ‘did not donate liver to dying father’.”

“I didn’t miss it,” Fiona snapped, finally grabbing the pad back. 

“What’s going on here? I wasn’t invited to breakfast?” 

Everyone’s head turned to see Lip standing in the living room, stuffed black garbage bag in tow. 

“Hey!” Fiona beamed as she walked towards him. “I didn't know you'd be here already. How was it? The last day of your first year of college.” 

“Ask me when it’s the first day of my last year,” Lip retorted, his mouth pulling into a smile. He dumped the bag on the couch and met his sister halfway with open arms. Fiona wrapped her arms around him and hugged tightly, laughing when Debbie came and joined in. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough,” Carl announced, disbanding his sisters and going in for a quick squeeze. He pulled away and gave Lip a light punch on the arm. “Gonna be good to have another dude in the house again.”

“What? Liam doesn’t count?” Lip joked. “Where is Liam?” he asked, peering around the kitchen until he spotted him on Sheila’s lap eating his cereal. 

“Hello, Lip.” Sheila waved from her seat at the table. 

“Hey, Sheila.” Lip made his way over to scrub a fist on Liam’s head. “Hey, buddy. You miss me?” 

Liam nodded, grinning around his spoon. 

“We’ll catch up later,” Debbie promised as she grabbed her bookbag and a handful of dry cereal. “We gotta get to school.” 

“It’s only a half day, right?” Fiona hooked her arm as she was heading towards the living room. 

“Yeah, why?” Debbie frowned, thumbing the straps of her bookbag up. 

“Come by the diner after and have lunch. I’ll tell Ian to come, too. We can all celebrate Lip being back.” 

“We don’t have to do all that,” Lip objected. 

“Yes, we do,” Fiona insisted, turning around and nodding her head firmly at Lip. “It’s a big deal, and when’s the last time we were all together?”

“I already have plans with Holly and Ellie,” Debbie whined. 

“It’s an hour, Debs. You have all summer to be with your friends.” 

“I have all summer to be with you guys, too.” Debbie crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, but all she received in return was a warning glare from Fiona. “Alright,” she grumbled as she walked towards the front door. “I’ll be there.” 

“I’ll show up for ya, Lip.” Lip nodded when Carl pounded and shook hands with him on his way out of the kitchen. 

“See you two there,” Lip called out after them. He turned to lean on the counter and surveyed the dining area, his eyes casting suspicion towards Frank and then darting to Fiona. “So what’s new?” 

“Your sister’s still working through her recovery,” Frank butted in from where he was now seated at the table, finishing Carl's leftover cereal. “Go on, show him the list.” 

Noticing the disdain on Fiona’s face, Lip ignored the comment and instead turned his attention to Sheila. “How’s Karen?” he asked, rubbing at his chin. “You, uh, you ever talk to her?” 

“Not as often as I’d like to, but she’s doing well. Making a little progress but I’m afraid she still can’t remember much,” Sheila’s voice trailed off as she looked down at the table top. “But,” she lifted her head, her face brightening up a little, ”I’m really hoping to make it out for a visit this summer. Jodi says it’s too hot, but it’s a dry heat. I’ve never been to the southwest and there’s so many things I could see on the way there.” 

Lip opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Frank pushed his chair back and spoke up. “All right, let’s go. Have to go get that bacon, remember?” 

“Oh yes, okay,” Sheila agreed. She gave Liam a quick kiss and whispered in his ear before standing and setting him back down in the chair. “It was nice to see you all. We really should have a dinner sometime or something.” 

“We’re all having lunch today,” Frank reminded her and turned to Fiona from where he was already waiting on the porch. “What time do you want me there? Noon? One?” 

Fiona and Lip exchanged looks, Fiona looking away and rolling her eyes when Lip shrugged his shoulders. “Noon sounds right,” she replied reluctantly. 

“I’ll be there,” Frank promised and started down the wooden stairs. 

“What the hell was he doing here?” Lip asked Fiona as soon as Sheila followed him and closed the door behind her.

Fiona held her hands up in exasperation. “Fuck if I know. Something about bacon and propane tanks. Get this. He’s brewing his own beer in Sheila’s basement.” 

Lip snickered and tapped his fingers on the counter. “Wish I could say I’m surprised, but some things never change, ya know?”

“Yeah,” Fiona agreed, clearing the table of all the dishes that everyone left behind. “I hate to bail on you, but we’re meeting Ian for a run and then he’s taking Liam so I can hit up a meeting before my shift.” 

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Few more days to freedom. At least from this thing.” She held her leg out, showing off her ankle monitor.

“Right. That’s good, though.” Lip nodded and scratched at his head. “I gotta find Tommy sometime. He promised me a job this summer and I need to find out the details.” 

“Well, you know where to look.” Fiona turned and raised her brows as she was stacking dishes in the sink. 

“Alibi.” Lip laughed, walking out to grab his bag off the couch and head for the stairs. “Like I said, some things never change. I’m gonna go dump my stuff and I’ll see you at- what’d you say? Noon?” 

“Yep.” Fiona followed him into the living room to yell up after him. “Don’t be late, you’re the guest of honor.” She smiled and and walked back out to Liam, who was finishing the last of his cereal. “Just us again, milk dud. You wanna get changed and go for a run with Ian and Yevgeny?” 

Liam nodded eagerly and hopped down from his chair. “I wanna do it,” he objected when Fiona reached to clear his dishes. She watched in amusement as he carried his bowl and cup over to the sink. 

“Now if I can just teach Carl and Debs to do that, huh?” she teased, leaning over to look at him.

“I can teach them.” 

“You can?” she asked, exaggerating her surprise and tickling him under the chin. 

“Uh-huh,” he laughed in delight.

“Sounds good. C’mon, let’s get you dressed,” Fiona said, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stairs. 

*

Mickey’s hand slipped over the edge of the headboard, knocking over a wooden carving and causing Ian to burst into laughter. 

“The fuck you laughing at?” Mickey huffed out and regained his balance where he was perched on top of his boyfriend.

“Just you wrecking the place.” Ian planted his feet and thrusted up while simultaneously gripping Mickey’s hips and yanking him down. 

“I gotta- _fuck_.” Mickey gasped and squeezed his legs when the action took away his ability to finish his sentence. “I gotta,” he started over but grunted when Ian grinned, snapping up into him again. “I gotta hold on somewhere or you’re gonna throw me off the goddamn bed,” he finally rambled out quickly between thrusts.

Ian sat up abruptly and stacked pillows between his back and the headboard. Leaning onto them, he pulled Mickey more into his lap, then grabbed his arms and draped them over his shoulders. “Why don’t you hold on here.” 

“Yeah?” Mickey's mouth twitched up as he pressed his forehead to Ian's. 

“Yeah.” Ian tilted his chin up and mumbled against Mickey's lips before kissing them. Ian pushed up into him experimentally, testing to see if the new position was going to work. The success of the idea was clear when Mickey's jaw dropped a little, an open invitation for Ian’s tongue to lick into his mouth. 

Mickey took the initiative and rocked his hips back, perfectly complimenting when Ian rocked up, the result an endless supply of friction for them both. The close proximity enabled them to kiss and breathe into each others’ mouths, their breaths becoming heavier and giving way to small groans that soon escalated into full blown moaning.

“Fuck,” Mickey tilted his head back and whimpered, missing a beat when his thighs began to tremble. "What are you waiting for?" 

Ian was pressing open mouth kisses to Mickey’s chest, mumbling as he went. “I’m waiting for you.”

“I was only waiting for you,” Mickey informed him, fairly sure by the large hand wrapping around his cock that Ian was already aware. 

Mickey rocked into him faster and Ian thrusted up harder, stroking Mickey off with the same intensity and speed. Ian’s face contorted in concentration while Mickey’s relaxed in slack jawed bliss as he finished first, his blunt nails digging into Ian’s back. Ian immediately followed, gripping Mickey's hips as he grinded up against him. 

Mickey slumped into Ian, pushing the damp hair off his forehead and pressing a light kiss to his temple. He followed up with three more, pecking down his cheek to his mouth. Ian parted his lips and kissed him thoroughly, finally groaning and flopping his head back. 

“You better not have fucked up my hair,” Mickey said between still recovering breaths.

Ian finally loosened his grip on Mickey’s hips, not moving his hands but instead rubbing light circles with his thumbs. “Your hair looks perfect,” he returned softly, smug satisfaction blooming on his face. 

“I'm gonna be late.” Mickey raised his brows and swung a leg over Ian, pushing himself up off the bed. 

Ian chuckled and laced his fingers together, resting his hands on his head as he leaned back and watched Mickey scrub himself off with a towel. “Gotta send you off right on your first day of work.” 

“That’s what you said last night,” Mickey reminded and stepped into his boxers and jeans, turning around to see Ian enjoying him pulling them up over his ass. 

"Still applies." Ian smiled innocently and rolled to the edge of the mattress to discard the condom in the trash. “How’s this thing going down?” 

Mickey patted at his hair in the mirror before buttoning up the shirt that he'd let Ian talk him out of twenty minutes earlier. “We show up at the house at 9, start loadin’ all the shit up, play all nice, you know? I'll talk to their bratty kid, maybe pet the fuckin’ dog. Then when the truck’s full, we drive off into the sunset and sell it all to the highest bidder." 

“Sounds too good to be true.”

“Yeah, well, some things are.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s arm as he was walking by and pulled him back, rocking up on his feet to peck a quick kiss to his lips. “And some things aren't.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” Ian smiled as he watched Mickey disappear out the door. 

“Mornin’.” Mickey walked briskly past the small crowd gathered in the kitchen not far from their bedroom. He poured a cup of coffee and turned around, raising his brows at Svetlana, Mandy, Iggy and his cousin RJ staring back at him.

“What?” 

“Is this an every morning thing now, too?” Mandy smirked while she scratched at some dried food on her uniform. “Already listen to it every night.”

Iggy and RJ snickered while Svetlana leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee with a smile. 

“Mind your own fuckin’ business, would ya,” Mickey deflected, a flush rising on his neck. “Do I bitch when your boyfriend stomps around and makes a fuckin’ racket?” 

Mandy’s mouth pulled down at the corners as she crossed her arms, staring Mickey down. 

“What? Like they don’t know?” 

Everyone looked between the two siblings, the room falling uncomfortably silent except for Yevgeny, who was starting to fuss and kick his legs in his seat. 

Mickey’s face softened when Mandy dropped her eyes and backed away from the table. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted when the baby let out a loud, demanding wail. “Why’s he cryin’ like that?” he snapped.

Svetlana lifted Yevgeny up from the carseat he was settled in, catching a whiff and turning her head. “He has diaper full of poop.”

Mickey sighed, watching Mandy retreat to her room and contemplating following when Svetlana pushed the baby into his arms. “I have to check eggs, you change it,” she ordered and walked away.

Mickey juggled his crying son and the coffee mug, shifting the baby from one arm to the other and observing him with uncertainty. 

“I’ll do it,” Ian said, appearing and making faces at Yevgeny. He reached over Mickey’s shoulder and pulled the already pacified infant into his arms. “Forgot this,” Ian added, hanging a striped tie around Mickey’s neck.

“Ahh, boyfriend to the rescue,” Svetlana teased. “You are watching baby today? Yes?” 

“Yeah.” Ian looked over from where he was lying Yevgeny down on the table by the fridge. “We’re jogging with Fiona, then I have Liam for the rest of the day, too. He loves Yev, though.” 

“Your brother good little helper.” Svetlana smiled before widening her eyes and walking towards them. “I have grocery list,” she remembered and removed a note from behind a magnet.

“No problem, I got it.” Ian plucked the paper from her hands, giving it a quick scan before shoving it into his pocket. Svetlana regarded him warmly, cupping his cheek with her hand.

“Why couldn’t my Nika be as good as you?” she lamented sincerely. 

“Family life just isn’t for everybody.” Ian shrugged, offering a sympathetic smile. “You’ll find someone.”

“Yeah, someone who doesn’t hate your kid then leave you to go back and work for that bitch Sasha,” Mickey interjected. 

“We stop talking about her now.” Svetlana gave Mickey a wary look but grabbed the fabric dangling around his neck and pulled him closer. “I have to check on Raisa before I open rub ‘n tug today.” She began knotting Mickey’s tie and glanced up. “Patel hit her yesterday. Left without pay.”

“Dry cleaner Patel?” Mickey met her eyes when she straightened the fabric and backed away to check it. She gave him a small nod and hummed in assent. “I’ll take care of it,” he assured and took a last gulp of coffee before looking to Iggy and RJ. “Truck ready?” 

“Yep.” Iggy nodded and threw down the skin magazine he had been flipping through.

“Get off your ass, then. Let’s go!” 

"Good luck.” Svetlana leaned up to kiss his cheek before heading for the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mickey shooed her off before noticing his brother and cousin opening the gun cabinet. “No, no, no. Look, no guns. It’s not that kind of job. We’re respectable now.” He pinched his tie for emphasis. “Remember?” 

The men relented and shut the door, securing the plastic child lock through the handles. 

“Looking good.”

Mickey spun around to see Ian walking towards him. “I’ll meet you at the place later, okay?” he said, admiring how Ian made it all look easy with Yevgeny, already droopy eyed and snuggled against his neck. 

Ian clutched his tie, pulling him in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and murmur by his ear, “I’ll be there.” 

Mickey backed away, a small smile pulling at his mouth as he headed for the door. “Better be.” 

*  
The sound of feet pounding the pavement echoed as Ian and Fiona jogged down the sidewalk, Ian pushing Liam and Yevgeny in a double stroller. 

“Anything new at the house?” he asked, gliding along and breathing fairly easy despite the exercise. 

“Not really.” Fiona shrugged a shoulder as she held her own, staying in stride while her ponytail swung back and forth behind her. “Sammi’s gone,” she added, like she just remembered the detail. 

“Oh yeah?” Ian’s amusement was evident as he glanced over. “Frank finally run her off?” 

“Nah, she met some guy and moved away with him after a week, said they’re getting _married_.” Fiona shook her head at the absurdity of it. “Guy had a truck so he just came and hitched up the trailer and off they went. Florida, I think. He’s a gator wrestler.” 

Ian snorted at the surprise ending. “You’re kidding.” 

Fiona held a hand up in honor. ”Swear to god, had a decal on the side of the truck of him smilin’ and holdin’ one of the ugly bastards.”

“She’s probably better off.” 

“I know I’m better off. Her and Chuckie were always bouncin’ between us and Sheila. No love lost here and two less mouths to feed.” 

“You doing okay with that? Being the only one working and everything?"

“Ehh, you know how it is. Playin’ the summertime scramble to make extra for winter but we’ll get by, always do. Even if it’s by the skin of our teeth.” 

“That’s the Gallagher way.” Ian laughed when they exchanged smiles. 

They jogged for another block, both entertained by Liam's rendition of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider”. He gestured the whole thing perfectly with his hands and to Yevgeny's delight, began a second verse. 

Fiona took advantage of the easiness and tried her best to be casual. “Hey, did you have a chance to call that doctor?” 

“Which one?” 

“From the clinic?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ian kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look her way.

“Probably the best time to go,” she encouraged. She forced more cheerfulness into her rising voice. “When you’re feelin’ good and all.” 

“Look, it was just a one time thing. I’m fine,” Ian said, the almost cold and firm tone surprising to Fiona’s ear. “I don’t have what Monica has.” 

“I know,” Fiona backpedaled, but she wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “It just seemed similar, the mood swings, the depression.” 

Ian shook his head, insistent. “I’m happy now, it’s over."

“Good good, I mean, it’s not our fault. Chances are one of us is gonna get it, just genetics Russian roulette.”

"My money's on Carl," Ian called over his shoulder as he ran ahead, leaving Fiona behind, shaking her head. 

*

Yevgeny babbled as Liam tried to show him the right way to hold his toy, sitting back while Ian pushed them in the stroller up and down the aisles. 

"Gotta get apples." Ian scratched his head and mumbled as he read the crumpled list that Svetlana had given him earlier. 

"There." Liam pointed at the small produce display set up in the back corner of the store. 

"Good. Few more things and we can get outta here. Still have to grab a shower before lunch," he thought out loud, steering them all over towards the fruit. The wheels ground to a halt when another stroller with a napping toddler stopped in front of them, blocking their way.

"Excuse me," Ian said, not hiding the hint of annoyance in his voice as he stared back at the man who was giving him an obvious once over. Ian shifted uncomfortably when the guy glanced down at Yevgeny and Liam. "Dude, move," Ian ordered, pushing his stroller forward a few inches.

"Don't I know you?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Don't think so," Ian said, tapping his foot impatiently but finding himself looking a little closer just to make sure. Ian watched him smile apologetically and push his child away, averting his eyes when the guy glanced back. 

“Kev!” Liam yelled when he saw Kevin approaching them, a dual baby carrier strapped to his chest with a twin hanging off each side. 

"What's up, Liam?" Kevin pushed his hair back off his shoulders and out of his daughters' reach. "What's up, Ian? You too, Yev-ga-whatever your name is." 

"Yevgeny," Ian corrected him and leaned forward, peering down at the chubby infant. 

"Yevgeny," Kevin repeated slowly. "Man, you know I won't ever remember that."

"Don't worry about it, it's cool. How are-" Ian snapped his fingers, drawing a blank as he gestured to the girls slobbering on Kevin's chest. 

"Amy’s in the pink and Gemma’s in the purple," he finished Ian’s thought and introduced each one, tilting his body so Ian could see their round faces. “A lot of babies, huh? Hey, do you still breastfeed or I mean." Kevin flustered at the misspoken question. 

Ian waved it off, amused. “Yeah, Svetlana does. It has antibodies or something for his immune system. Plus, it’s free.”

“Free," Kevin muttered. "I forgot about that argument."

“Veronica not wanting to?” 

“Yeah, I mean no. I don’t know. She’s saying the milk bar is closed and stupid shit like that but I think she was just worked up because they were both screaming.” 

“Probably gets crazy with two around,” Ian consoled. 

“Yeah, I can’t imagine having three now,” Kevin agreed. He was preoccupied, his eyes fixated on something behind Ian. “You okay with that dude cruising you?”

Ian looked over his shoulder and shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I'm alright,” he said, trying to shake it off. “We’re leaving soon. Supposed to be meeting everyone for lunch ‘cause Lip’s home from school.” 

“That’s cool. I gotta get these two back to Vee before they melt down anyway,” Kevin said right as Gemma started to wave her fists and cry. “See? Clockwork.”

“Right.” Ian chuckled. “I'll catch you around. Tell Vee I said hi.” 

“Yeah, man, I will.” 

“Alright. Where were we, guys?” Ian mumbled more to himself than his passengers as Kevin walked away. 

“Apples!’ Liam reminded.

“Right. Apples.” Ian pushed them all over to the produce and was opening a bag when the guy reappeared, sliding in alongside them and stopping.

“I know where I know you from now,” he gave a little nod, his eyes studying Ian’s face.

Ian sighed, trying not to pay attention, and kept picking out apples. “Where's that?”

“You used to dance.”

Ian’s hand froze for a moment, fingertips digging into an apple as he kept his sight straight ahead. He licked his lips and faced the guy, raising his brows. ”Still do, what’s your point?”

“You do anything else?” he said suggestively, a knowing smile forming on his lips. 

“What’s your name?” Liam, now interested in the conversation, tugged on the man’s jeans. “Hey, what’s your name?" 

Ignoring the distraction, he pressed harder. "So what do you say? You wanna go out back real quick?"

"You're serious?" Ian asked, plopping another apple into the bag while looking around to see if anyone could hear them. "In this neighborhood?" 

He shrugged and scanned over Ian one more time. “I have a feeling you're worth it." 

Ian’s skin tightened as he twisted the bag closed, assessing his admirer from head to toe. "Okay."

"Okay?" The guy asked, his face lighting up at the prospect. 

"Yeah.” Ian leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Meet me out there in five." 

They went their separate ways, Ian keeping a close eye and watching the guy pay and leave. Ian pushed the stroller to the register and slid his basket of groceries across the counter, looking back one more time to see the man throw him a nod and a smile before turning the corner. 

"Is that man you and Mickey's friend?" Liam wondered, following Ian's gaze. 

"No," Ian said, paying the cashier and exiting the store quickly to head in the opposite direction. "He's not our friend at all." 

*

"Hey, mommy. We're back," Kevin called out, laden with a few grocery bags as he entered the front door. 

Veronica removed her forearm from her eyes and looked up from where she was dozing on the couch, still in her robe. 

"Hey, baby," she greeted him, her voice sleepy and low. "How were they?" 

"Oh, we had a good time. Didn't we? Didn't we?" Kevin widened his eyes as he twitched his head back and forth, chatting at both baby girls strapped to his chest. Gemma giggled and flashed a gummy smile while Amy regarded him with nothing more than a few sucks of her balled fist. "They just hung out, though. Get it? Hung out?" 

“I get it, Kev.” Veronica waved off the pun and groaned, sitting up and rising to her feet.

“Did you take a shower and enjoy your time alone?” He leaned in to peck his wife’s cheek as she relieved him of all the bags. “You smell good,” he added, giving her a little smile as she walked away. 

“Yeah, I did. Can’t tell you how nice it is to get a shower and not worry about someone crying or someone waking up or someone just needing something,” Veronica rattled on as she unpacked the groceries onto the counter. “I was so relaxed that I started to fall asleep and,” she stopped mid-sentence, double checking the bags she had already unloaded. When she lifted her head, her formerly relaxed mouth was pulled into a tight line. “Did you buy formula?”

Kevin sighed and tilted his head. “Listen, Vee-”

“No, no, no,” Veronica waved her hands and shook her head, refusing to listen. “Don't even start that shit. We've been over this. That’s why you went to the store.” 

“No,” Kevin protested, taking only a few strides to join her in the kitchen. “I went so you could cool off after that fit you threw this morning when you smacked our child. I saw Ian at the store and even he said that Svetlana still-”

“Kevin Ball.” Veronica slammed a few cans of soup down on a shelf and turned on her heels. “You really think I care? I don't care what anyone else says or what their boyfriend’s baby mama is doing. I only care that I, your wife, am not breastfeeding anymore.” 

Kevin huffed, pulling a strand of his hair out of Amy’s grasp. “Would you just listen?” he pleaded. “I know it’s hard but it's free and it has the exact right amount of antibodies for their immune systems.” 

“Antibodies?” she scoffed, clearly unimpressed as she put her hand on her hip. “You been on fucking Google again?” 

“Vee!” Kevin reprimanded while trying to cover four little ears with only two hands.

“You know they don't understand.” She pushed past him and rolled her eyes. “I’m here all day, every day. I change their diapers. I give them baths. I get them dressed. I clean up their puke and _then_ I get them dressed again.” Veronica was off on a tangent, moving around the room and trying to straighten up. “And that’s just for them! I still have to clean the house, do our laundry, it’s just too much. This will be one less thing I’ll have to do.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Kevin disagreed, quickly regretting it when Veronica glowered at him. “I’m just saying, I’m here a lot too and I think it seems fine.” 

“Fine?” she dropped the blankets she was folding and walked closer to him, daring him to say it again. “Seems fine to you?” 

“Well, yeah,” he stammered, starting to sway back and forth in response to Gemma letting out a few whimpers, threatening a full on cry.

“Okay, then,” she snapped. “You think it’s fine? Then how about you do it!” 

Both girls began to wail at their mother’s increased volume as she stomped upstairs. 

“Vee?” Kevin paced around the room as he waited for a response, trying to quiet the babies on his chest. “Come back down here, Vee.”

Failing to soothe his daughters, he began bouncing and grabbed a few teething toys, but they both rejected the offer, throwing them on the floor. 

“I'm going to open the Alibi.” Veronica finally reappeared, makeup on and dressed with heels clicking down the stairs. “You can stay here with them.” 

“What? But they're hungry," Kevin raised his voice, struggling to be heard over the dual screams. “At least try to nurse them before you leave."

“I have the perfect thing for that.” Veronica wagged a finger and walked back out to the kitchen, reaching far back into one of the cabinets. “I even boiled water ‘cause I knew you'd be all weird about it.” She grabbed a pan that was setting on the stove and carefully poured equal amounts into two bottles. 

"I’m not feeding them water.” 

She reached back into the cabinet again, producing a small can of formula that she plunked down in front of her.

"Where did you get that?" Kevin blinked in amazement as he watched her pop the lid off.

“Free samples they gave us at the hospital,” she replied cooly, dropping a couple scoops of powder into each bottle. “Should be enough to get you through today.” 

“I don't even know if they'll take formula. What if they don’t like it?” Kevin protested. 

“Oh, they'll take it," she assured as she screwed the tops on and began shaking them simultaneously, one in each hand. She set the bottles on the table and gathered her keys and bag. Walking over to where Kevin was standing, she kissed each screaming baby softly on the head before leaning up to his ear. "I've given it to them before."

Kevin stood there in awe at the revelation while Veronica smirked and walked away, turning back for one more pointed look as she closed the door. 

*

Fiona was plating up the best looking slice of blueberry pie they had when Jackie snuck up behind her and whispered, ”That’s not the pie she wants.” 

“Angela?” Fiona snorted, wiping her hands down her apron and glancing over at the table to see the young woman watching her with a smile. 

“It’s true and you know it,” Jackie teased, twisting her hair around a finger. “She asked me how much you make here.” 

“Shut up, no she didn’t,” Fiona balked, pouring a cup of coffee and wiping the spilled drops off the saucer. 

“She did,” Jackie insisted, leaning in a little closer. “She wants to sweep you off your feet and take you away to live happily ever after. Between her legs.”

“Something wrong that you two are chit chatting during lunch hour?” Sean asked, leaning against the wall by the coffee pots.

"Nope, I was just running this over for Fiona ‘cause the rest of her family’s food is up," Jackie claimed as she stole the pie and coffee from Fiona’s hands with a wink. ”Don’t get jealous.” 

Sean slid his hands into his pockets, waiting patiently. “I’m not buying that for a minute.” 

“Truth is,” Fiona explained while stacking her arms with plates, “Jackie’s sexually harassin’ me.”

“Really?” Sean’s mouth turned up slightly as he crossed his arms. “I’ll have to spank her later.” 

“That's not much of a punishment, now is it?” she replied coyly, enjoying the way she kept his gaze when she walked away. 

"Chicken nuggets and fries,” Fiona announced, standing in front of the double table that was bursting with Gallaghers and one tiny Milkovich. 

Debbie wrinkled her nose as Fiona set the plate in front of Carl. “You’re such a child.”

"Yeah, cause it’s not like that’s what you got the last time we were here." Carl picked up one of the fries and whipped it at Debbie’s head. 

"Stop it, this is supposed to be nice," Fiona reprimanded them both as she handed Debbie her club sandwich. "Salisbury steak."

"Right here," Frank piped up, picking up a fork and knife and assuming a devouring pose. "Kind of you to buy me lunch." 

“You know, I never said I was buyin’,” Fiona pointed out, planting her hands on her hips. “And the only reason I even let you invite yourself is I thought Sheila wanted to come." 

"Where is Sheila?" Debbie asked, sliding the toothpick out of a sandwich wedge. 

Frank casually cut into his meat and popped a bite into his mouth. “I told her I was feeling morose and needed some quality time with my children. She didn’t want to interfere.” 

“Interfere?!” Fiona laughed. “Sheila’s the only good thing about you these days.” 

“Hey, Frank,” Lip garbled around a bite of cheeseburger. “Why you such a douchebag to Sheila when she’s the only person who even likes you?” 

"Maybe cause he's a douchebag to everybody," Ian offered, raising his glass when Lip agreed and lifted his own for a private toast between the two of them.

“Among other things,” Fiona muttered. 

"Douchebag." Liam pointed to Frank, causing the entire table to snicker. Pleased when the word earned him an audience, he began chanting it with high pitched fervor. "Douchebag, douchebag, douchebag." 

"Real nice there, Fiona.” Frank nodded, nonplussed as he pulled a bottle of beer from his pocket and twisted the cap. “More astounding proof of your exemplary parenting skills." 

“Douchebag!” Liam yelled, giving himself a fit of giggles as he waved his arms. 

"Alright, buddy. We’re done now." Ian leaned down to calm him, but was caught in the crossfire when Liam's flailing hands sent his cup of chocolate milk everywhere. 

“Shit,” Fiona said, pulling a towel from her apron pocket as Ian jumped back a second too late. 

“I’m sorry,” Liam murmured quietly before turning to hide his head in the corner of the booth. 

“It’s okay, bud.” Ian looked down, frowning at the front of his jeans where they were soaked through.

“I got it.” Fiona darted over to grab some dry towels and handed one off to him. 

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom,” he said, slipping the rest of the way out of the booth and gesturing to Yevgeny in the car seat. “Keep an eye on him?" 

Lip watched Ian walk to the back of the diner before crooking a finger at Fiona to lean closer. “He ever go see that doctor?” 

“Nah,” Fiona said, drying her hands on one of the towels. “He refuses. I tried again this morning on our jog but he won’t even talk about it.”

“We should talk to Mickey.” 

Fiona was about to agree when Sean walked by, stopping to take note of the scene. “Looks like you're having fun.” 

“Liam just had an accident,” Fiona explained, pushing a stray hair behind her ear as she finished drying the table. 

“Your lady friend left this for you.” Sean handed Fiona a perfectly folded $100 bill before explaining. ”A few kids were eyeing it up so I figured I’d pick it up for you.” 

“Again?!” Fiona’s eyes widened and peeked around Sean to see Angela crossing the street and getting into her car.

“Whoa,” Carl said in awe, a chicken nugget dripping with ketchup poised in front of his mouth. “A hundred bucks for slinging plates around? Sign me up.” 

“Yeah, maybe I should skip talking to Tommy today and come work with you. ” Lip teased, looking to Sean. “Everyone make that kind of money?” 

“Just Fiona,” he replied, giving Fiona’s arm a squeeze before walking away. Fiona smiled, watching him over her shoulder.

“Was that a little squeeze?” Lip interrupted her trance, his eyes darting between Fiona’s arm and her face in disbelief. 

“What?” Fiona looked around, feigning innocence even as everyone stared at her. 

“He squeezed your arm.” Lip pointed to where Sean had touched her and raised a brow. “Did anybody else see that?”

“How _old_ is he?” Debbie asked, a hint of disgust as she watched Sean talk to a busboy. 

“Oh, that's nothing,” Jackie spoke up and made a nauseated face from where she was wiping the table adjacent to them. “The two of them are like that all day with each other.” 

“Really?” Lip looked to Fiona for confirmation. 

“We are not,” Fiona scoffed, unable to keep the corners of her mouth down as she shook her head and waved the accusation off. 

“We are not what?” Ian slid back into the booth and started digging through Yevgeny’s bag. 

“Nothing.” Fiona dismissed the conversation, wanting to put it to rest. 

Yevgeny saved her when he squealed happily, seeing Ian set baby food and a spoon on the table. 

“You watch him every day?” Lip nodded to the baby and took a drink from his pop. 

“Not every day.” Ian shrugged, working on peeling the foil back on the plastic tub. 

“What?” Lip smirked. “You like the second wife or something?” 

Ian stirred the food calmly without looking up. “I’m like someone who watches him when I need to. Kind of like I’m watching Liam all day because, oh, wait? What the fuck are you doing today?” 

Lip set his cup down and sighed. “I was just asking. How you supposed to go back to school if you have a baby all day?” 

“The high school has a daycare now,” Debbie chimed in. "All the girls use it."

"See. Problem solved." Ian raised his brows smugly as he tucked a bib under Yevgeny’s chin. "All the girls use it."

"Alright.” Fiona cleared her throat and raised a glass. “Enough givin’ each other shit and let’s do what we came here for. To Lip’s first year of college. May you all follow in his footsteps.” 

“To Lip,” the entire table repeated in unison, raising their plastic cups while Fiona made a point to reach over and tap Carl and Debbie. 

“I think I need new mashed potatoes,” Frank griped, pushing his food around on his plate. “These are lumpy.” 

“Anyway.” Fiona rolled her eyes, ignoring the request. “Who’s gonna want pie?” 

“I want cherry pie,” Carl said and licked his lips lecherously. 

“Ew.“ Debbie kicked him under the table. “Can I leave now? Holly and Ellie are waiting for me.” 

Fiona tried to hide her disappointment, holding her cup up one more time. “Yeah, but one more while we’re all still here.” 

Everyone, even Frank, held their cups up in anticipation of Fiona’s toast. 

“To summer,” she said simply. 

They all clinked glasses and echoed, “To summer!” 

*

Mickey paced impatiently, waiting for a higher bid from one of the three men mentally appraising the contents of the moving truck. The second one kept eyeing the red recliners with excitement. 

"$5300," he finally offered. 

"Anyone else?” Mickey paused before announcing, “Sold to the man with the barcalounger fetish.”

“It’s all there?” Mickey asked as he accepted a wad of cash from the new owner. He shuffled the bills between his hands, doing a quick count in his head. 

“It’s all there,” the guy confirmed, scratching at his neck. “Hey, you think you guys could come and help me unload it? I ain’t got nobody around today.” 

“That’s not how it works. You bought it, it’s your problem now,” Mickey said unapologetically as he shoved the money into his pocket.

“I can pay you extra if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.” 

Mickey made no qualms about sizing the guy up before gesturing for his brother and cousin to come around the truck to talk. “You two wanna do that and split the cash? I’m out, Ian should be here already.” 

Iggy exchanged looks with his cousin, both of them only shrugging, yet communicating with each other enough to come to an agreement. 

“I think it’s alright.” Mickey peeked around the corner at the guy, whose hand was petting down the leather arm of one of the chairs. “He seems harmless enough.” 

“Even if he’s not.” Iggy pulled his pant leg up to reveal a small handgun tucked into his sock. Smiling at his brother’s disapproving expression, he protested, “What? Didn’t hurt nothin’.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and walked back to the tailgate, clearing his throat. ”Okay, they’ll go with you and help you unload for $200.”

“Done,” the guy quickly responded.

Mickey held up a hand to signal he wasn’t done. 

“A piece.” 

“You’re fuckin’ killing me, man,” he grumbled just as the car pulled into the gravel lot and Ian honked the horn. 

Mickey’s gaze shifted from the guy to the car and back, not wanting to hang around. “Our ride’s here, make up your mind.” 

“Okay, okay.”

“Pay ‘em now,” Mickey ordered, standing there long enough to witness the money exchange hands. “Call if you two need a ride home later,” he called out to his brother and cousin as he walked towards the car, his smile growing bigger the closer he got.

“Wanna ride?” Ian inquired, the flirtation obvious as he leaned down to ogle at Mickey through the open window. 

The corner of Mickey’s mouth pulled up even further as he slid into the passenger’s seat. “You’re late.” 

“Traffic,” Ian answered simply, his eyes finally making their way up to Mickey’s face. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Making extra to help unload.” 

“You’re not going?” 

“Nah, I’m going with you.” Mickey gave a look in the backseat as Ian pulled the car out onto the road. “No rugrats?”

Ian shook his head. “Yev fell asleep so I left him at the house with Mandy and then Liam wanted to stay, too. She said it was cool.”

Mickey nodded, lifting his hips and pulling the roll of bills from his jeans pocket as they slowed to a stop at a red light. He startled when Ian grabbed his tie, pulling him closer and meeting him halfway in a quick, hard press of lips. Mickey grinned and retreated, only to have Ian reel him back in. 

He connected their lips again, Ian’s tongue sliding out in a tiny lick along the seam of Mickey’s mouth. Out of blind habit, Mickey parted his lips and let him in, a small noise vibrating in his throat when they slid their tongues against one another. Tugging Mickey impossibly closer, Ian reached his free hand up to thread into Mickey’s hair and deepened the kiss just as three quick honks of a horn jarred them out of it. 

“Fuck. You that happy to see me?” Mickey asked, a little dazed as Ian drove away from the intersection. 

Ian shifted in his seat, reaching down to readjust himself. “What? I can’t miss you?”

Mickey rubbed at his mouth mindlessly, following Ian’s hand and smiling. “You miss me or you miss me and you being alone in the house all afternoon?” 

“Maybe a little of both,” Ian admitted, glancing over and licking his lips. 

“Jesus, what are you gonna do if I ever land a full time job,” Mickey joked, beginning to properly count his money. 

“Same thing I did today.” Ian waited for some oncoming traffic to pass so he could turn down a side street. “Think about you a lot and jerk off whenever I can.” 

Mickey laughed, but Ian just kept driving, his eyes trained on the road and his smile not giving anything away. 

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Mickey asked, looking up when there was no further response. 

“I only did it once, in the shower, but it wasn’t that good,” he said regretfully before catching Mickey’s eyes. “The real thing is a lot better.” 

Mickey grinned and shook his head at the suggestive comment, looking back down at the cash. “I’ll give you the real thing anytime you want.” 

“Was hoping you’d say that.” Ian took a quick turn into a gas station and drove them around back, slowing the car as he rolled down the window.

“You fuckin’ serious?” Mickey snorted. “What are we gonna get done in a car wash in five minutes?”

“It’s seven minutes,” Ian informed him, leaning over and plucking a $20 bill from Mickey’s pile. “Ten if you get the protectant.” 

Mickey watched the transaction, wide-eyed as Ian fed the money into the machine and started rolling up his window. He eased the car into the bay and threw the gearshift into park.

“You don’t think you can get me off in ten minutes?” Ian tilted his head and blinked his eyes innocently as water started to pour all around the car.

Mickey raised his brows at the challenge and quickly shoved all the money into the glove compartment. “That how it’s gonna be?” He rose from his seat, scooting over and loosening his tie. 

Ian stopped him and wrapped it around his hand, pulling Mickey to his lips. “Leave the tie on. I thought about that, too.” 

Mickey gave a smug smile before plunging his tongue into Ian’s mouth and reaching a hand down to unzip his pants. 

*

“What’s up with the fancy watch?” Fiona gestured to Lip’s wrist as they turned the corner onto Mickey’s street. The crystal glimmered in the dim streetlights as he held it up. 

“What? This old thing?” He admired it for only a second before dropping his arm back to his side and digging around for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “It was a gift. From Amanda.”

“What’s she up to this summer?” 

He paused, lighting the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Went to Miami for awhile.”

“Miami?” Fiona looked confused. “Thought she was North Side.”

He nodded and exhaled a cloud of smoke and offered her a hit. “That’s just their homebase.“ 

Fiona accepted and slid the cigarette from his hand before fishing for more details. “Are you still together or...?” she trailed off, waiting for him to deny it. 

Lip’s only answer was a shrug as he kicked a rock out of their path. “She wants me to move into her apartment in the fall and I don’t know.” He waved his hand, clearly unsure how to answer the question. “I already filled out an application to be an RA. And I like her a lot, I really do, but that playing house shit. Been there, done that.” 

“Mandy?” Fiona asked, looking for confirmation that she was on the right page. 

Lip nodded. “Just not ready for any of that.”

Fiona remained quiet, not having any advice to offer but waiting to see if he had anything else to say when he perked up. 

“I went down to the Alibi and found Tommy. He gave me a hard time but said I have a place on the crew for the summer.” 

“That’s great news.” Fiona smiled and handed the cigarette back. 

“Yeah, did you know Vee is taking care of the bar and Kev is staying home with the twins?”

Fiona’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No! Since when?” 

Lip shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Just saw her working and overheard a phone call but yeah, she’s there.” 

“I have to talk to her. I’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had a chance to go over and help.” 

They stopped at the bottom of the stairs to the Milkovich house, sharing a look. 

“Who’s talkin’?" she asked as they climbed the stairs. 

“He doesn’t really like me but we’ll do the tag team approach.” Lip took a last hit from his cigarette and flicked the butt off the porch. 

Fiona rapped on the old wooden door, waiting only a few seconds before it was swung open. 

“Hey,” Mickey greeted them both with disinterest. 

“Hey,” Fiona returned, lowering her a voice a little. ”Can we talk to you for a sec?” 

“Does no one use a fuckin’ phone anymore,” Mickey muttered. A woman’s voice was echoing out, something that had Mickey rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he barked before shutting the door and huffing. “I gotta run an errand. You wanna talk you gotta walk.”

“How far you goin’?” Fiona chased down the stairs after him. “I got a tickin’ time bomb on my ankle.”

“Across the alley,” he grumbled as he took off, swinging his arms. “What do you wanna talk about?" 

“What do you think about getting Ian to see that doctor we talked about before?” Fiona asked hopefully. 

“What for? He’s not sick anymore.”

Fiona looked helplessly at Lip, already feeling Mickey putting that wall up. 

“He will be,” Lip promised. “Just like our mom. Mickey, he needs meds. They’ll help with the mania and then the depressions won’t last as long.”

Mickey actually took interest that time, but not the way Fiona was hoping for. “See that’s the fucked up part. Why does he have to take pills when he’s not sick? Look, I know about your mom and that sucks and all but Ian ain’t your mom. It was a one time thing."

“You don't know that,” Fiona added quickly but Mickey stopped her, holding his hand up.

“Wait here.”

Fiona’s mouth hung open, wanting to explain more but Mickey was already halfway across the street, bellowing at the man locking up the storefront. 

“Hey, Patel!” 

The man’s head snapped back, his eyes wide and round. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh, shit is right. You like hitting girls?” was the only warning Mickey gave before he began to pummel him. 

“This is his errand?” Fiona said in disbelief as she and Lip stood on the curb watching Mickey physically accost the shop owner. 

Lip laughed, but he and Fiona both winced in unison when Mickey delivered a particularly harsh kick to the already fallen man. Fiona looked on in awe when Mickey began to scream up at the second floor apartment window. 

“Hey, Mrs. Patel,” he drawled out dramatically. 

“Oh my god,” Fiona mumbled and turned to see Lip entertained with the display and stifling his laughter.

“How about you jerk your husband off once in awhile so he doesn’t come back to my rub ‘n tug ever again,” Mickey announced for the entire block to hear. Without missing a beat, he stomped back past Fiona and Lip. 

“Say he gets manic or depressed or whatever the fuck,” Mickey reasoned, returning immediately to their conversation. “How do we know it’s not just from livin’ in this shithole?” He gestured back to the street where he just caused all the commotion. 

“He has signs of bipolar disorder, like recklessness and impulsiveness,” Lip explained.

Mickey shook his head and kept walking, not interested in their opinions. 

“Fast talkin’, barely sleepin’, hypersexuality,” Fiona tried, hurrying to keep up. She thought she saw Mickey’s head tick back like he was going to say something, but he turned it forward and kept going.

“You mean horny?” Mickey snorted to himself. “What teenager isn’t horny?” 

They crossed the alley, Mickey heading straight for his house and obviously done with the conversation. “S’that it?” he asked, glancing back impatiently, already halfway up his stairs. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Fiona looked over to Lip, imploring for help. 

“Listen, Mickey.” Lip stepped forward and tried his best to be diplomatic. “If you notice anything or if you need anything _at all_. Just call us, okay? Keep us in the loop.” 

Mickey’s eyes darted back and forth between them as he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “Yeah, okay.” 

Fiona sighed and watched Mickey close the door behind him. “You think he heard any of that?” 

“Oh, he heard it,” Lip said assuredly. He sighed in apprehension. “He's just trying hard not to listen.” 

*

Ian exhaled and stared at the ceiling, a cloud of smoke hanging above him. Mickey was turned away from him, the sound of his steady breaths not doing anything to lull Ian to sleep. He took a last hit from the cigarette and butted it out in the ashtray. 

He fidgeted and squirmed, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, when his eyes landed back on Mickey. He lifted a hand tentatively but retracted it, resigning himself to roll away and face the opposite direction. He closed his eyes and held a breath as he quietly slid a hand down under his boxers and between his legs. Soon growing conflicted, he crinkled his nose and forehead and gave in, flipping back over. 

“Hey, you awake?” Ian whispered, tracing a finger down Mickey’s spine. 

Mickey stirred, the muscles of his back twitching as he mumbled into the pillow. “I am now.”

“I can’t sleep,” Ian sung out softly by his ear as he leaned over him. 

“Again?” Mickey complained ineffectively, the amusement coming through in his voice. He began to turn over and was met with Ian climbing on top of him. 

“Why?” Ian’s face went stern as he stared Mickey down, failing to exhibit any kind of real intimidation. “You have a problem with that?” 

“No, no.” Mickey suppressed a smile and shook his head before hooking a hand behind Ian’s neck and pulling him down, aligning them face to face. “I don’t have a prob-” 

His words were silenced when Ian pressed their mouths together, immediately parting his lips and pushing his tongue into Mickey's mouth. Mickey reciprocated with slow and languid kisses, humming appreciatively when Ian pulled away and smacked their lips together. 

“Come back here,” Mickey mumbled, tightening his grip on Ian's neck and pulling him back down.

Ian groaned, grinding their hips together and smiling into the kiss when Mickey’s tongue stuttered in his mouth. He kept going, unrelenting, as he dropped his head to suck and mouth at Mickey’s neck, his tongue tracing patterns on his skin. 

Ian was on a mission, sinking lower and lower, spreading kisses further and further, until Mickey's knees were bracketing his waist. He grabbed the hem of Mickey’s boxers and tugged them down, leaning to the side so Mickey could kick them the rest of the way off. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re good at waking someone up?” Mickey’s mouth quirked up as he settled back, watching Ian dip down and lick up his inner thigh.

“Only you,” Ian murmured, swirling his tongue around Mickey’s cock before sucking him down. Ian hummed wetly when Mickey’s hands reached for him, running through his hair and urging him to move.

Ian dropped his mouth down and slid back up, repeating the motions in a steady rhythm that had Mickey chewing his lip and Ian's own body begging for attention. 

He began to go faster, humming louder when Mickey groaned and responded by shifting to spread his thighs even wider. Accepting the invitation, Ian slid his fingers lower to trace around Mickey’s entrance, meeting no resistance as he pushed in. 

A sharp gasp escaped Mickey’s throat, prompting Ian to lift his head, eyes black and mouth hanging open in a wet smile as he continued to ease his fingers in and out. “Still good from before?”

Mickey shook his head and closed his eyes. “Little bit more,” he breathed and bent a knee up to give Ian more room to maneuver. 

Happy to oblige, Ian added a finger and pumped in and out, using his other hand to stroke Mickey into a rhythm. He stared lasciviously, running his tongue along his bottom lip as Mickey’s body moved, rocking his ass back onto Ian’s one hand while pushing his cock up through the fingers of the other. 

Ian swallowed hard when Mickey blinked his eyes open, catching him leering, but Mickey only smirked and said the word Ian was waiting to hear. “Ready.” 

Ian surged up and pinned him with his body, leaning in to kiss him, hard and fast, as Mickey's hands scrabbled, pushing at the waistband of Ian's boxers. Ian broke from his grasp and backed up quickly, getting to his feet and grabbing Mickey’s ankles. He tugged him down, pulling until Mickey’s ass was on the edge of the bed. 

Ian arranged Mickey's legs, one over his shoulder and one around his waist, and quickly sunk in, relishing in the relief that washed over him. He pulled out and pushed back in, closing his eyes and groaning when Mickey’s body tightened around him. 

The room was filled with sounds, Ian grunting and Mickey gasping when he raised his hips up into Ian’s every thrust. Ian could tell Mickey was already close, the thought confirmed when Mickey reached down to arch up into his own hand. Ian licked his lips and watched, the sight of Mickey touching himself always a motivating factor in his own orgasms. But he furrowed his brow when Mickey tensed, his breaths uneven and his arm working faster. 

“Don’t.” Ian nudged Mickey’s hand, making him groan with frustration. "I'm not ready yet, but soon.” 

Mickey bit his lip and nodded, restless as he squirmed and raked his fingers through the loose sheets. Ian paused to change their position, hitching Mickey's legs up higher and slamming his hips into him harder.

Mickey jolted at the new angle. “Gotta give me a minute,” he panted, squeezing his legs so tight that Ian couldn’t move. 

“Fuck,” Ian muttered, also breathless as he ran his fingers back through his hair and dropped Mickey's legs down. "I thought this would be good." 

“It’s pretty fuckin’ good.” Mickey scoffed and scooted back onto the bed before offering, ”Want me to turn around?”

“No.” Ian turned his head but quickly looked back, brushing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek. “ _No_.”

“C’mere.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s arms and backed up further onto the mattress, taking Ian with him. He spread his legs and pulled Ian down, guiding him in until there was no space left between their bodies. “Maybe if you didn’t do this ten times a day.” 

“That’s not what it is.” Ian scowled at the accusation, knowing very well it could be. 

“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” Mickey said, his tone no longer sarcastic but light and warm. Ian searched his face, relaxing when Mickey smiled and pressed their lips together. 

Ian kissed him slow and deep, letting his tongue sweep lazily into Mickey's mouth. Taking his time, he pulled out and pushed back in, holding and grinding his hips against Mickey's ass. 

Mickey broke the kiss, dropping his lips to suck on Ian's throat. “What did you think about today?” he asked as he slid his hands back to grope Ian’s ass and pull him in. 

Ian closed his eyes at the feeling, but his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "What?" 

“Said you thought about me in the shower, so what?” Mickey urged Ian to move his hips faster and huffed hot breath into his ear. “Were you fuckin’ me?”

Ian’s lips tugged up at the question, but he only shook his head when he took the hint and pushed into Mickey a little rougher. 

“Something better?” Mickey grunted in response but didn’t stop, curling his fingers into Ian's ass and mumbling by his ear to spur him on. “Were you suckin’ my dick?” 

"No," Ian whispered and swallowed, his mouth dry from gaping open. 

Mickey rested his head back on the pillow, making sure to lock eyes with Ian and overtly lick his lips as he spoke. "Was I down on my knees suckin’ _your_ dick?” 

Feeling the effect of the words, Ian picked up one of Mickey’s legs, propping it on his shoulder to aid in snapping his hips faster. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Mickey breathed out, dropping his jaw and reaching down to resume stroking himself. “C’mon, tell me.”

Ian gave him a breathy smile, finally leaning down and confessing the fantasy in Mickey’s ear. 

Mickey’s eyes went wide as he chuckled darkly. “You’re so fuckin’ dirty.” He turned Ian’s head to lick in his ear and whisper something back. Ian groaned and knocked Mickey’s hand away to take over. 

*

Fiona dipped her hand into the pool, testing the water. Just as she suspected, the heat from the sun all day had it at prime temperature. She swirled her hand just below the waterline, her face cracking into a huge smile.

“Debbie!” she yelled up towards the house. 

“Yeah?” Debbie moped out in her pajamas, looking down to where Fiona was propping the ladder up against the flimsy metal wall. 

“Pool party. Get your brothers out here.” 

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Fiona replied. “I’ll call Ian, too.”

Debbie’s face brightened as she scurried back into the house. 

Fiona slid her phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen, her finger making a few quick taps before it was ringing. The voicemail clicked on and she waited for the beep. "Hey,” she quickly started her message. “We're swimmin’ tonight. Get your ass over here and bring Mickey.” She laughed and hung up, pushing the phone back into her pocket. 

“Hey, mama, you wanna swim?” Fiona smiled, noticing Veronica walking across the yard, beer bottle tipped to her lips. 

“Nah, just wanted to be outside for a little bit.” Veronica sat down on the back stairs, her weariness evident on her face.

“That a new breastmilk technique, takes the alcohol out of it or somethin’?” Fiona smiled and nodded to the frozen peas she was holding under her shirt. 

“I’m trying to make it go away.” Veronica groaned as she sipped her beer. She couldn’t hide the wince when she shifted the bag to the other side. 

“Everything okay?” Fiona asked more seriously, dropping down to sit on the step above her. “Lip said he saw you working at the bar today.” 

Veronica sighed, taking another slug and leaning back. “It’s hard, Fiona. Most days I feel like I’m barely hanging on but this morning was bad. I left.”

“What do you mean, _left_?” 

“Ugh,” Veronica groaned. “It started out about breastfeeding but it’s about more. I just wanted him to see how hard it is to take care of two babies. For once, I wanted him stuck with them all day and to have them screaming and crying.” She paused, shaking her head. “I wanted him to fail.” 

“And?” Fiona encouraged when Veronica stopped to pensively examine the bottle. 

“And,” Veronica tipped the beer again, draining it. “He’s a better fucking mom than me.”

“Wow.” Fiona stepped down to sit right next to her. “Everything changes when you have a baby, Vee, but it’ll even out. Things’ll get easier.” 

“Everything changes is right. You know we haven’t even had sex in over a month? A month.” Veronica repeated in disbelief. “I never thought we’d be those people.”

Fiona regarded her sympathetically but only leaned into her, not sure what to say. 

The stairs shook as Debbie and Carl rumbled down, arms full of towels and drinks, followed by Lip carrying Liam, who was only clutching his floaties and rubbing his eyes. 

“Figured he’s old enough for a pool party, so I woke him up,” Lip explained, depositing him on the grass. 

“You ready for your first Gallagher night swim?” Fiona asked Liam before she started to slide his arm into a floatie. 

“Yeah,” he replied shyly, swaying back and forth. 

“Where is the-nevermind, found it,” Debbie yelled from where she was rummaging under the porch. She walked out carrying a small radio that she plugged into the outlet and cranked up. 

“You ready now?” Fiona asked again, holding up Liam’s arms and urging him to dance. 

“Yeah!” he shouted, kicking his feet and wiggling his body. 

“Pass him in,” Lip called from where he was already wading through the small pool. Fiona lifted him up and handed him over the edge. 

“Sure you don’t wanna swim?” Fiona looked back to where Veronica was observing from the stairs. “I have to go change. I can grab you one of my suits.” 

“Nah.” Veronica smiled tiredly and leaned back, crossing her legs. “Think I might hang out, though.”

“You got room for one more?” Ian asked, walking from the back of the yard and out of the darkness. 

“Ian!” they all yelled, broadcasting his arrival. 

“Where’s Mickey?” Debbie asked, lowering herself into the water. 

“I wore him out,” Ian replied nonchalantly, grinning as he walked into Fiona’s open arms. 

“Oh my god.” Fiona laughed while pulling him into a hug. “Get in. I’m gonna change and I’ll be back.” 

“Canonball!” Carl roared as he jumped up from the edge of the pool and tucked his knees to his chest. A wave of water rippled through the pool, splashing out over the side and soaking Fiona from her waist up. 

“Shut up down there!” a neighbor’s voice echoed over them. “It’s late!” 

“You shut up!” Fiona screamed back, wiping the water from her face and enjoying her family’s laughter all around her. “It’s summer!”


	2. Black Soap

Fiona glanced at the clock as she set the eggs and toast on the table, plating some up for Liam and turning to smile at him conspiratorially.

"3, 2, 1," she said in a light, teasing voice, enjoying his giggle when Carl and Debbie pounded down the stairs right on cue, both dressed in swimsuits and t-shirts with backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Debbie elbowed past Carl to take her seat at the table. "Get out of the way, Carl!" She grabbed for a piece of toast, flinging one of her long braids over her shoulder and taking a quick bite before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Or what?" he asked sarcastically, reaching for a plate and scooping up a large portion of eggs and four pieces of toast. "I'm not scared of you."

“Maybe you should be, assface.” Debbie glared at him over the rim of her mug, rolling her eyes when he opened his mouth to show her his half-masticated eggs.

"Jesus, you two." Fiona shook her head, grabbing a dirty sponge from the sink and running it briskly over the counter. “You just woke up, what’s got you so cranky?”

"Debbie's friends ditched her." Carl yelped, jumping back when she reached out to punch his arm. "She’s been pissy all week."

"That true, Debs?"

Debbie shrugged, picking at the crust of her toast despondently. "They were bitches anyway."

“Bitches,” Liam repeated gleefully, pushing his eggs around on his plate and swinging his legs back and forth under the chair, feet not quite skimming the ground.

Fiona snorted, shooting Debbie a smile over her shoulder as she moved to the sink and started the tap. "Yeah, listen to Liam. Who needs ‘em?"

Debbie kept quiet, staring sullenly into her coffee mug. 

“You working today, Fi?” Carl asked, pulling her attention away from Debbie. 

Fiona nodded as she rinsed off the utensils in the sink and set them in the dish rack. “Yeah, going in this afternoon, why?” 

Carl took another large bite of eggs, chewing quickly before continuing. “How good’s the money at that place? We gotta start working on the squirrel fund for next winter.”

“Yeah, what are we doing for money this summer?” Debbie asked. “Debbie Daycare’s pretty much dead now that you’re a convicted drug addict.”

Fiona frowned at her, putting the lid of the butter on and setting it back in the fridge. “Not a drug addict, Debs.”

“Whatever,” she sighed. “The point is, no one will let us watch their kids. I’ve been asking all the moms at the pool, and none of them will sign up again.”

“Don’t worry about it, guys,” Fiona soothed, playing off her discouragement as she stepped over to refill Liam’s cup with milk and ran a hand over her messy ponytail. “I’m makin’ okay money at the diner, and I can figure out the rest.”

“Really?” Carl asked skeptically, shoving a whole piece of toast into his mouth. “We can help, you know.”

“Don’t go gettin’ into trouble for money, Carl,” Fiona warned, grimacing as she watched him chew with his mouth open. “I got it. You guys gonna be home tonight? Need someone to watch Liam for me after work."

"Why?" Debbie asked, taking a final gulp from her mug and grabbing her backpack. Carl didn't respond, keeping his head down as he finished shoveling his breakfast into his mouth.

"Monitor's finally comin' off today!" Fiona exclaimed, pointing down at her ankle. "I'm goin' out."

"Maybe I want to go out too, ever think of that?" Debbie snapped, grabbing a reused bottle of water from the fridge and a towel from on top of the dryer. She paused to stuff them in her bag before making her way to the back door.

"You got plans already?" Fiona asked. "Come on, Debs, help me out."

"Don't know if I can," she said peevishly, brushing by Lip as he stepped into the kitchen. "I have a life, too, you know."

"I know that." Fiona stopped when Debbie stormed out of the house, sharing an incredulous glance with Lip. "What the hell was that?"

"She's probably just PMSing," Carl said, taking his already packed bag from the counter and pressing a quick kiss to Liam's head before he stepped out the door. Lip just shrugged, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reached for the coffee pot and spare mug on the table.

"Wait, can you help with Liam tonight?" Fiona shouted after Carl.

"Can’t, I'm busy," he replied over his shoulder, running down the back steps and taking off after Debbie.

Fiona sighed in exasperation, turning back to Lip. "Teenagers."

Lip laughed, leaning against the counter next to her and tapping her ankle with his foot. "Today's the big day, huh?"

Fiona grinned, jumping onto the stool and bringing her ankle up to rest on the counter. She tugged fruitlessly on the ankle strap. "Hell yeah! Well, for the monitor at least. Still gotta go to my monthly check-ins with Johnson. But as far as I’m concerned, this is progress. Help me get this thing off, would ya?"

Lip raised a brow as he took a large gulp from his cup. "Aren't you supposed to wait to go to the probation office to get unleashed?"

She grabbed the screwdriver she’d set out and started picking at the lock. "They're not open ‘til tomorrow, no way am I waiting that long."

"I don't know, Fi, looks like it's pretty secure," he remarked, grabbing a leftover piece of toast from the decimated breakfast and biting into it.

"Nothing a little elbow grease can't fix," she argued, continuing her efforts. "So you wanna come out with me tonight? Maybe I can get Sheila to watch Liam."

Lip looked down at their little brother, making a goofy face at him and smiling at his delighted giggle. He ran a hand over Liam’s hair, tugging lightly on his ear. "Probably not, I'm starting that new job today. Not sure what time I get off."

"Oh, right, forgot you're a workin' man now," Fiona teased. 

Lip smirked as he set the nearly empty coffee pot back in the machine. “That’s right, so I won’t be there to supervise. Just try not to celebrate with any road trips or hard drugs, yeah?”

“No promises,” Fiona joked, jumping up and checking the drawer for pliers. “One day at a time.”

“Funny,” Lip said, raising his brows.

Fiona laughed, then grunted in frustration as the pliers slipped. “You excited about the job? Why they got you startin' on a Sunday?”

“I don’t know, something about no city inspectors working today?” Lip shrugged, taking another bite of toast. “It’s definitely shady, probably illegal, but I’m kinda looking forward to it.”

“Yeah?” Fiona asked, using both hands to grip the pliers and tugging hard on the bolts of her ankle strap.

“Yeah, it’ll be a nice change of pace. No class, no grades, no homework. Just haulin’ shit and breakin’ shit.”

Fiona grinned. “Like meditation, only with large objects.” 

Lip smiled, pointing at her with his last bit of crust. “Exactly.”

"Well, I guess I'll have to drag Vee out with me tonight."

"Good luck with that," Veronica broke in, slipping in the back door and heading straight for the coffee. "I'm dead on my feet. Probably be working at the bar, anyway."

"Damn, Vee, you look like hell," Lip said.

She glared, shoving past him to grab a mug from the cupboard and turning to the pot, sighing in frustration when she realized there was only half a cup left. “I have twins, I’m gonna look like hell for the rest of my life. And Kev wants me to make him some fucking pancakes.”

“Shit,” Lip muttered, heading toward the front door. “I gotta go to work. Good luck with the too many babies and the jailbreak.”

Fiona eyed Veronica closely, taking in the slump of her shoulders and the bags under her eyes as she continued picking at her monitor. “You alright?”

“Just counting down the minutes until the Alibi opens and I can escape my house,” Veronica replied, splashing some milk into her coffee mug before taking a sip. “Does it make me a bad person that I’d rather sell cheap booze to barflies than spend time with my twin spawns of Satan?”

“Spawns of Satan?” Fiona shot her an incredulous look. “Really?”

Veronica sighed into her coffee mug. “Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

Fiona shrugged. “Did you leave either kid on the porch last night while you went on a drug run? No? Then compared to what I grew up with, you’re an excellent mother.”

Veronica chuckled weakly as Fiona finally ripped the strap loose, jumping up with a wild cheer. She danced around the counter, trying to pull Veronica into her celebration, to no avail. 

“What, you’re too tired to dance with me?” she teased. “Come on, Vee, I’m free!”

Veronica smiled weakly. “If it helps, this is my happy face now.”

*  
Mandy darted into Mickey’s bedroom, slamming the door closed behind her just as Kenyatta’s fist connected with it, shaking it on its hinges. 

“Bitch, come out of there!”

Running a hand over her face in exhaustion, Mandy glanced up to see Ian and Mickey staring at her, Mickey‘s face troubled, Ian’s rapidly turning red with anger.

“Mandy!” Kenyatta shouted, a dull thud indicating that he had moved on to kicking harshly at the wall. “Don’t fucking hide from me.”

“Again?” Ian asked, straightening from where he was bent over on the end of the bed, tying up the laces of his running shoes. “This is the third time this week, Mandy.”

She scoffed, looking away uncomfortably. “What, you’re keeping count?” 

“Kind of hard to miss, seein’ as you’re in our room hidin’ from the asshole,” Mickey said, taking a long drag from his cigarette and leaning back against his pillow. 

Mandy flipped him off, listening to the sounds of Kenyatta working himself into a state in the living room. She heard a loud crash and winced, picturing the empty bottles that must be shattered on the floor now, crushed glass embedded in the carpet.

“Haven’t you had enough of this, Mandy?” Ian asked, voice low and intense, stepping close to her and holding her gaze. “Let us help you, we’ll get rid of him.”

“He’s not that bad,” she said quietly, tensing and pressing herself back against the door and away from him. She angled her head down, allowing her dark hair to swing forward and hide her face.

“No?” Ian challenged, grabbing her arm and yanking up the sleeve to reveal the deep bruises mottling her skin. “Then what the fuck is this?”

Mandy yanked her arm away, scowling at the judgment in his tone. “It’s not a big deal. He’s just stressed about money right now.”

Ian made a sound of disbelief and grabbed for her arm again, squeezing her bruised skin too tightly in his haste and causing her to wince in pain. She ripped her arm away again, glaring at him defiantly.

“Ay, back off her,” Mickey cut in as they heard the front door slam.

Ian turned to face him, face twisting in anger and disbelief. “Mickey, you can’t be siding with that piece of shit-”

“I ain’t siding with anybody, I just want you to give her some fuckin’ space.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, tugging him back down to sit as he tossed his cigarette into the ashtray next to their bed. “What’s with you, huh? Take a fuckin' breath.”

Ian stared at him for a moment, face pulling tight as he opened his mouth as if to say something else. He closed it instead, crossing his arms over his chest and settling there, back pressing into Mickey’s legs.

“Fucking thank you,” Mandy muttered resentfully. “Leave it, okay? That job he was working on fell through, he’s just stressed right now.”

Ian’s retort was cut off by the abrupt opening of the bedroom door. They tensed up, pausing until they saw it was only Svetlana.

“Boyfriend storm out to rage in front yard,” she said, stepping into the room with Yevgeny balanced on her hip. “Not before trashing house, though.”

“I’ll clean it,” Mandy mumbled, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. 

“No one gives a shit about some broken glass, Mandy,” Ian chided, eyes boring into hers and voice still carrying a threatening edge. His knee bounced lightly in agitation. “We care about getting that asshole away from you.”

“Mind your own fucking business, Ian,” she snapped. 

“Alright, Jesus,” Mickey interjected. “Let’s worry about it later, he’s gone now.”

Ian laughed darkly. “He’s just outside, he won’t be gone for long.”

“You are going for run?” Svetlana asked Ian, smiling down at Yevgeny and ignoring the tension in the room and the threat lurking outside. “Baby need fresh air and daylight.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we deal with Kenyatta,” Ian said stubbornly. 

"Just drop it," Mandy sighed, turning to leave the room and the unwanted conversation. "I can handle myself."

They all looked up as the door slammed open again, heavy footsteps thundering back through the living room and heading for Mandy’s bedroom door.

"Fuck this," Ian muttered, jumping off the bed and pushing past Mandy and Svetlana. Mandy's eyes widened in alarm when he stalked up to her boyfriend, intercepting him before he could enter her room. Ian squared his shoulders and pushed his face close, his nose almost brushing Kenyatta’s chin.

"Get out of this house," he spat, body vibrating like a live wire. Mickey cursed behind her, rising from the bed and grabbing a shirt from the ground, pulling it on over his head as he stepped out to follow Ian.

"You need to get your bitch in line," Kenyatta said, ignoring Ian to look over his head at Mickey.

"Ian, come on-" Mickey began, reaching out to grip his shoulder.

"No!" Ian bellowed, shrugging Mickey off and shoving against Kenyatta's chest, groaning in frustration when he didn't budge. "This is the last time you're gonna hurt Mandy. Get out!"

"Ian!" Mandy shouted. "Please-"

Kenyatta's arm shot out, fist catching Ian across the cheekbone and sending him reeling. Ian shook his head, blinking a few times before staggering forward again, glaring at Kenyatta with barely masked rage.

"Oh, you hit men too?" Ian taunted, pushing Mickey aside when he tried to step between them. "Thought your thing was hitting girls, you fucking coward."

Kenyatta struck out again, cursing loudly as he hit Ian across the temple and split the skin open, sending a trickle of blood down his face. Ian came back for more, swinging his fist wildly and just skimming Kenyatta's shoulder. Kenyatta’s arm reared back to strike Ian again, and Mandy snapped.

"Leave him alone," she screamed, rushing forward to latch onto his arm. Kenyatta swore, backhanding her across the cheek as he shook her off. Mandy went flying back against the wall, banging her hip hard and wincing at the sting against an old bruise. She heard Yevgeny crying, Svetlana speaking in soothing tones as she quickly slammed Mickey's bedroom door closed.

Mandy looked up to see Mickey standing in front of Ian where he was slumped on the floor, shoulders squared and stance firm, pointing a gun at Kenyatta.

"Get the fuck out," he barked, eyes narrowing when Kenyatta stepped forward aggressively. "I ain't playin', man."

Kenyatta glanced around the room angrily, kicking against the back of the couch before shooting Mandy a threatening look. "You're gonna pay for this, bitch."

Mandy sighed in relief when he walked out the front door. She stepped over to the window, watching as he made his way past the gate and stalked down the sidewalk. She turned away once he rounded the corner out of sight, and glanced back to see Mickey crouched over Ian. His face was bloody but he was alert, and he seemed to be mostly intact. 

She stepped over cautiously, coming to sit in front of him. "You okay?" she asked gently.

"Mandy." Ian reached out to grab her hand as he wiped at the blood leaking from a cut over his eye. "Mandy, he has to go."

Mandy looked over his head, meeting Mickey's serious gaze. He lifted a brow, the question in his expression clear. She sat for a moment, eyes scanning over Ian's bloody face and the wrecked living room, listening to the sound of Yevgeny's wails. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Okay," she said quietly, gripping Ian's hand tightly. "Okay."

*  
Carl kicked at a stack of boxes outside the market, smiling in satisfaction when they spilled over onto the sidewalk. He smirked when the store owner shouted after him in anger, flipping him off over his shoulder. 

“Get bent, asshole,” Carl yelled back at him, knocking over a couple more crates before continuing down the block. His eyes widened when he caught sight of Frank sprawled out on a nearby bench, watching him as he took a big swallow of whatever he had tucked inside his brown paper bag.

“Problems?” he asked, sitting up taller and gesturing for Carl to take a seat next to him on the bench.

Carl shook his head, walking past without breaking his stride. “No time, I need to go to the next place.”

He was surprised when Frank stood to follow, walking fast until he caught up with him. “Where’s the fire? You young people are always in such a hurry.”

“Trying to find a job,” Carl explained, resigned to having Frank’s company whether he wanted it or not. “But most of these places won’t hire me because I’m not old enough. It’s bullshit.”

“Ah, yes, the pedestrian nature of U.S. labor laws,” Frank began. Carl rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes forward and his feet moving as Frank continued. “They want us old folks to work ‘til we drop, but won’t take advantage of our able-bodied youth. I say if a child wants to work, let them! It benefits all of us in the end.”

“Right, well-”

“Oh, but they wouldn’t want that, would they?” Frank rambled on, oblivious to Carl’s disinterest as he picked up steam. “Gotta keep us poor folk down, under their thumbs. If they let our kids work, we might actually have a shot of rising above our circumstances. Just imagine the progress we could make if all of you kids could pull your own weight.”

“We do pull our own weight,” Carl retorted incredulously. “When was the last time you pitched in on our bills or bought food? Or even came to the house without stealing something?”

Frank took another long pull from his bottle, dodging the questions and moving quickly to change the subject. “Why the sudden desire to be a working man? Last I saw, that daughter of mine was bringing in the big bucks at the diner for junkies.”

Carl snorted in disbelief, eyes scanning over the storefronts they were passing in hopes of seeing a “Help Wanted” sign tucked into the corner of their windows. “It’s a shitty waitressing job, it’s not enough to keep the whole house going. Lip and Ian aren’t around to help anymore, I gotta step up.”

“Well, if you really want to help, working for pennies as a bag boy won’t get you anywhere,” Frank said. “You have to get yourself a real revenue stream, son. Hey, have you considered breaking a limb or setting up an accident over at the new construction site? I could hook you up with Lou if you cut me in. 70/30, fair and square.”

“Did you even get your check yet from breaking your leg last year?” Carl asked, scoffing when Frank frowned. “We don’t have that kind of time, the bills need to be paid now.”

“Well, there’s always the high risk, high reward route.” Frank gestured across the street, where a few of the local dealers were lurking on their usual corner. “Heard tell that G-Dogg is looking to expand into the white market, maybe he could use you.”

Carl looked over at the crew thoughtfully. Most of them were around his age, or just a little older. “Seen some of them around school,” he realized, smile forming as he thought about it. “The other kids are afraid of them.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Frank muttered. “Thugs and hooligans, they’ll beat down a man as soon as look at him. And why? Because he’s a little short on payment?”

“Had a run-in with them, huh?” Carl asked. He turned away before Frank could answer, uncertainty creeping into his tone. “You really think they’d hire me? Don’t know much about dealing.”

“What’s to know?” Frank replied dismissively. “This bag goes for this much, sell on this corner or that one, keep your mouth shut about your clientele. Simple enough even for you, son.”

Carl nodded, watching the different kids to determine which looked the most approachable. “I’d definitely make a lot more doing that. Could probably bring in enough in a couple months to get us through the whole winter.”

“Sure.” Frank shrugged. “And once you’re in, don’t forget it was your dear old dad who helped you get there. Wouldn’t mind a freebie every once in awhile to show your appreciation.”

Ignoring him, Carl stepped off the curb, heading across the street and toward G-Dogg’s crew. 

*  
Mandy watched from the kitchen as Ian paced around the house, muttering about what he wanted to do to Kenyatta. He looked wild, the bruises already evident on his face and his hair mussed from repeatedly running his hands through it. Mickey rested against the doorjamb, silently smoking a cigarette and eyeing him worriedly.

Mandy came to stand beside him, watching nervously as Ian inspected the contents of their gun cabinet and rambled about the subpar quality of their weaponry. “Svetlana leave?”

“Took the baby to the pool.” Mickey rubbed his free hand against his temple. “Something about him needing time in the sun. Think she just wanted to get him out of here, though.”

“Can’t blame her.” Mandy tilted her head toward Ian pointedly. “He’s freaking out, Mick. He on something?”

Mickey sighed, pulling at his lips. “I fucking wish.” 

“What do we do?” 

“We got enough ammunition here to take him out if we need to,” Ian interjected loudly, turning to address Mickey and gesturing forcefully toward the gun cabinet. “We lay in wait, and when he walks through the door, he’ll get a nice little surprise.”

Mickey shook his head. “Can’t kill him, Ian.” 

“Maybe we should call Fiona?” Mandy suggested quietly as Ian’s mouth flattened into a hard line, clearly irritated at being rebuffed.

Mickey shook his head. “She’ll try to take him to the fuckin’ psych ward. He’s fine, okay? He just has too much energy, needs something to focus on.”

“Thinks he can toss Mandy around, thinks he’s a big man.” Ian came to stand in front of Mandy, looking at her intensely. “I won’t let him, okay?”

Mandy nodded, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I know.”

She turned back to Mickey when Ian returned to his pacing. “And you think this shit with Kenyatta is the answer? He tries to go for him again, he’s gonna get his ass beat even worse.”

“Had something else in mind,” Mickey said, raising a brow at her as he tossed his cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray. “Long as you’re serious. We do this, you gonna be invitin’ him back in next week?”

“Fuck you, Mickey,” Mandy snapped, wrapping her arms around her middle and looking away from him. 

“We could grab a couple bats, give him a good scare.” Ian clenched and released his fists, hands moving as if to grip a baseball bat as he looked to them for approval of his new idea.

Mickey watched her silently for a moment, finally shrugging his shoulders and turning to Ian. “Hey Taz, chill. I got an idea.”

Ian stopped in his tracks, eyeing Mickey skeptically. “Yeah?”

Mickey nodded. “We wanna get him right, we gotta be smart. So we make a plan.”

Ian quit his frantic pacing and came to stand in front of Mickey. “What kind of plan?” He reached his hands up, gripping Mickey’s neck and bringing his face close. “We have to get rid of him forever, Mick.”

Mickey met his eyes, holding his wrists lightly and nodding silently. Mandy saw Ian visibly relax, muscles loosening and harsh expression softening as he held Mickey’s gaze. She averted her eyes when Mickey stretched up to brush a gentle kiss over his lips, uncomfortable witnessing the easy affection.

“So what’s your bright idea?” she asked, interrupting their moment. 

Mickey led Ian over to the couch, pulling him down to sit beside him and grabbing his lighter from the table. He gestured for Mandy to sit too as he lit a new cigarette and took a long pull before speaking. 

“Alright, so we gotta get him locked up,” Mickey began, eyes on Mandy. “He’ll just keep comin’ back otherwise, and I’m not really in the mood for murder today.”

Mandy swallowed, twisting her hands together in her lap. After a moment of thought, she nodded in agreement, recognizing the truth in Mickey’s words.

“How?” Ian looked at him expectantly.

“Said he needs money, right?” Mickey gestured to Mandy, continuing when she nodded. “We set him up for a job, let the fucker get busted.”

“What job?” Mandy asked skeptically. “You're getting out of crystal, and it's not like you can cut him in on the moving scam. He’d see right through that shit.”

“Nah, we can’t make it obvious,” Mickey agreed, blowing out a long stream of smoke as he rubbed at his temple. “He don’t trust me, ‘specially after this morning. Gotta let him find something or overhear something, go for it on his own.”

Ian snapped his fingers in excitement. “What about stolen cars? Let him hear us talking about an easy pick up and drop off. Could even leave the info out on the table. He’ll grab it and beat us to it.”

Mickey shot him a sly look. “Didn’t you get busted for that shit back in the day?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Not really, it was Steve who stole the car. Or Jimmy, I guess. What the fuck ever, point is, I bet Lip still has the contact info from when he helped him. We can arrange a pick up and then call it in, get him busted in the car.”

“Grand theft auto?” Mickey nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good few years inside. Could work.”

“I’ll call Lip now.” Ian sat forward, reaching to pull his phone from his pocket, hands shaking slightly. “He fucking hates Kenyatta too, I know he’ll help.”

Mandy shifted uncomfortably at the mention of Lip, never sure how to react to his presence on the periphery of her life anymore. The thought of him helping with this filled her with embarrassment, but she stayed quiet, not wanting to argue with Ian and get him riled up again.

“Yeah, but it only works if he takes the bait,” Mickey pointed out, pulling Mandy back into the conversation when he turned to her with a speculative look. “What do you think?”

Mandy bit her lip, considering. Finally, she sighed in resignation. “He needs money bad. He overhears you two talking about an easy scam, he’ll go for it.”

Mickey smiled, knocking his knee into Ian’s. “Alright then, let’s do it.”

*  
Lip limped away from the work site, holding his hands loosely at his sides and wincing at the sting every time he clenched them too hard. He looked around blearily, spotting a hose attached to the building ahead of him. 

Hurrying to reach it, he turned the dial on the spigot to the left and smiled in satisfaction when water spurted out of the hose, splashing against his legs. After taking a long swallow of the lukewarm water, he doused his head, watching as the excess rushed down his chest and covered his dusty, sweat-soaked tank top. Lip sighed, the small bit of relief easing his exhaustion for the moment. 

“Lip?” someone called. He swiveled his head to see Ian jogging over to him, the amusement clear on his face. “Having a little shower? You look like shit.”

Lip flipped him off, taking another long swallow of water before answering. “First day on the job. It’s going great.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian asked. He was fidgeting, his hands tapping rapidly against his thighs. “You like it?”

“Hauling rocks all day while a bunch of idiots make fun of me for bein’ a soft college boy?” Lip smirked, attempting to ignore the manic energy he could feel coming off his brother as he continued running the water over his dirty arms. “Yeah, it’s a good time.”

Ian grinned, eyes moving past him to look over the construction site curiously. “Just think of it as a chance to earn your South Side cred back.”

“Rather earn it back doing something a little less painful,” Lip remarked, dropping the hose and raising his hands to show Ian the welts that were already forming. At his wince of sympathy, Lip shrugged. “Good money, though, and I need it. Even if I barely get a minute to breathe outside of my breaks.”

“So that’s why you’re not answering your phone,” Ian said, a slight edge creeping into his voice. “Been trying to reach you all morning.”

Lip straightened, heart thumping as he really looked Ian over, taking in the bruising around his cheek and the cuts over his eye and temple. “You doing okay?”

“Course,” Ian answered calmly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of him. “Just need a favor.”

“Sure,” Lip said, watching him closely. He seemed mostly okay, not too out of it, but his eyes were off, darting around and refusing to land. “Things good over at Mickey’s?”

“Not really,” Ian sighed. Lip’s eyes widened in surprise, and Ian rushed to correct himself. “I mean, things are great with Mickey. But we’re trying to get Kenyatta outta the house.”

Lip gestured to Ian’s injuries. “He do that to you?”

“Yeah,” Ian shrugged, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Got into it with him this morning. But I think it was a good thing. Mandy was pissed, think she’s finally snapping out of it.”

Lip’s mouth tightened at the mention of Mandy. “Good. So how can I help?”

“You still got that number for Jimmy’s old contact? The guy who arranged his car theft jobs.”

Lip raised a brow, taken aback by the request. “Think so. You sure you wanna be tangling with that shit again?”

“I’m not, it’s for Kenyatta,” Ian explained quickly. “Gonna get him to do the job, and call in a tip. He’ll be busted, and then he won’t be able to come back to the house.”

“Kind of risky,” Lip said, even as he reached for his phone, wincing when his raw fingers rubbed against the pocket of his jean shorts. Glancing at the screen, he noticed that he had a few texts from Amanda along with the missed calls from Ian. He brushed past them, making a note to check them later. “What if they don’t get him?” 

“They will,” Ian said confidently, watching eagerly as Lip found what he was looking for and pulled up the number from his contacts. “Mickey’s got it all worked out, it’ll go fine.”

Lip gestured for Ian to hand over his phone, grabbing it and transferring the number in as he shot him a skeptical look. “You put a lot of faith in Mickey.”

“Yep,” Ian smiled, and the agitated energy surrounding him dissipated for a moment, replaced with a kind of contentment Lip would never understand. “I do.”

Lip shook his head, returning the phone. “I gotta get back to work. Let me know how it turns out.”

“I will,” Ian nodded, turning to start his run home.

“Hey, Ian,” Lip called.

“Yeah?” he asked, flipping around to jog backwards, still moving away from him. Out of his reach.

“You need anything, anything at all,” Lip said, trying to cover the worry in his voice. “I’m around.”

Ian chuckled carelessly. “I know you are. See ya, Lip.”

Lip watched his brother jog away, growing smaller and smaller in his vision until he disappeared around the corner. He looked up to the sky, sighing wearily as he felt the sun glaring down on his face, and headed back to work.

*  
Fiona walked slowly down Wallace Street, clutching Liam’s hand and listening to him sing quietly as they made their way home. She smiled and squeezed his fingers when he stumbled over the same letters as always, blending “L, M, N, O, P” into one long nonsense word.

“You’re gettin’ pretty good at that song, buddy,” she told him, unlatching the gate and gesturing for him to head toward the front door. He grinned at her in triumph before running up the walkway, pushing the unlocked door open and entering the house ahead of her.

“Carl!” she heard him yell. “Fi says my alphabets is good.”

“That’s because you’re really smart, and definitely not retarded,” Carl responded seriously.

Fiona stepped into the living room to see Carl helping Liam onto the couch to sit beside him, both of them immediately turning their attention to the cartoon playing on the screen. She came up behind them, scrubbing a hand through Carl’s hair.

“Thought you were gonna be gone, I asked Sheila to come get Liam,” she said.

“I’m leaving soon,” he replied, turning to face her. “Got a job.”

Fiona smiled in surprise, before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “What kind of job?”

“At the fruit market,” he answered, voice carefully nonchalant. “They said I could help out with unloading boxes and stuff. Few nights a week.”

“Yeah?” Fiona asked happily. “That’s great, Carl. I’m real proud of ya.”

He shrugged, feigning indifference and turning back to the screen with a small smile on his face. Fiona heard a scoff behind her and looked toward the kitchen to see Debbie standing in the entryway, arms crossed over her chest.

“As if he actually-”

“Debs!” Fiona cut her off, taking in her appearance with wide eyes. “Oh my god!”

“What?” Debbie asked, running a hand self-consciously through her newly shorn hair. 

Fiona stepped closer and reached a hand out. “What did you do to your hair?” 

Debbie backed away, shooting her a challenging glare. “Svetlana cut it, and I think it looks great.” She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet, eyes daring Fiona to make an issue of it. 

“Svetlana,” Fiona echoed, dumbfounded. “Mickey’s wife? What the hell were you doing with her?”

Debbie shrugged. “She was at the pool with Yevgeny.”

“And so you thought you’d invite her back to the house to give you a makeover?” Fiona asked incredulously. “Debbie, she’s a prostitute.”

“She’s nice,” Debbie argued, hackles rising at Fiona’s dismissive tone. “She listens to me and gives good advice, and she knows what she’s talking about.”

Fiona shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose as she willed herself to calm down. She decided to change tactics, dropping the Svetlana issue for the moment. “It’s not just the haircut. What’s with all the makeup? You look like a-”

Carl came to stand beside her, laughing as he gawked at his sister. “Whoa, you look like a hooker!”

“Ya think?” Debbie asked happily, fluffing the ends of her hair.

“That is not a compliment, Debbie!” Fiona exclaimed, running her hands through her own hair and tugging on her ponytail in frustration.

“Hello!” Sheila called out, pushing the front door open and peering around the wall of the entryway. “I’m here to pick up Li-oh hi, munchkin!”

“We’re not done talkin’ about this,” Fiona told Debbie, turning to see Liam running over to hug Sheila’s legs. “Hey Sheila, thanks for comin’.”

“Of course! I never miss an opportunity to hang with my favorite little guy,” she replied, reaching down to pat Liam’s shoulder.

“Liam, get your backpack,” Fiona instructed lightly, waving her hand towards the rooms upstairs. “You’re gonna go have a sleepover with Sheila tonight, okay? And I’ll come get ya in the mornin'.”

“Okay, Fi,” Liam answered, scrambling excitedly up the stairs.

“Got him all packed up with pjs and toys,” Fiona assured Sheila, shooting her a grateful smile. “Thanks again for takin’ him. I really need to get out tonight, even if it’s all by my lonesome.”

“No one’s going with you?” Sheila asked in surprise.

Fiona shrugged good-naturedly. “I tried everyone- Lip, Veronica, Ian, even my boss! Everyone’s busy tonight. But I don’t mind, I’ll just go dancin’ with myself.”

“Good for you, honey,” Sheila said, smiling as she looked down to see Fiona’s unencumbered ankle. “You’ve been doing so well, you deserve a little celebration.”

Fiona smiled. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Sheila enthused. “I was just telling Frank, you’ve got to live while you can!”

Fiona raised a brow. “Don’t think Frank’s ever had trouble cuttin’ loose.”

Sheila laughed, waving her hand at Fiona. “Oh, he’s fine with having a good time around here, but try to get him out of our own backyard and he just won’t hear of it.”

“You want him to leave?” Fiona asked, perking up at the idea of Frank leaving the neighborhood. Hell, maybe even the state. “Where you wanna go?”

“Oh, everywhere!” Sheila chattered excitedly. “I was thinking we could go down to Sedona to see Karen and Hymie, and then maybe do some exploring. Those nice ladies who just moved in up the block want to buy my house for double market value. Double market value! We could buy an RV and still have plenty leftover.”

“Wow, Sheila,” Fiona said as Liam came running down the stairs, backpack in hand. “Sounds amazing.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sheila replied dreamily. “It’s all just a fantasy, though. Frank doesn’t want me to sell. We’ll probably just stay here until we die.”

Fiona’s smile froze on her face when Sheila’s tone turned abruptly sour. “Alright, then. Liam, you ready to go?”

“Yep!” He reached up to hug Fiona quickly around the hips before walking over to grab Sheila’s hand. 

“Night, sweetface, I’ll see ya in the morning.”

Fiona watched as Liam and Sheila finished their goodbyes and left, Carl following them through the door to head out for his first night at his new job. She walked back to the kitchen to find Debbie still standing against the stove, shoulders back and lips pursed, braced for a fight. Fiona sighed, settling her hands on her hips as she looked her sister over. Her eyes caught on the notepad still sitting out on the counter, zeroing in on a particular line.

_Being too hard on Debbie_

Fiona chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she turned back to Debbie with a sympathetic look. “Friends still not talkin’ to you?”

Debbie seemed confused at the abrupt subject change, crossing her arms over her stomach self-consciously as she shook her head.

Fiona reached out tentatively, stroking a hand over her arm and chancing a smile. “Your haircut actually looks pretty cute, but you’re gonna have to take that makeup down by at least half.” 

The corners of Debbie’s mouth started to tug up, but she pulled them back into a thin line before the smile could fully form. “I’m not a baby anymore, Fiona.”

“I know that,” Fiona conceded. “Just, give me a minute to adjust, wouldya Debs? You’re still my baby.”

Debbie shrugged, looking away. Fiona studied her for a moment, coming to a decision. 

“Wanna come see a band with me?”

Debbie’s head whipped back around, and she looked at Fiona in wonder. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Fiona smiled, feeling more confident about the idea as she took in Debbie’s positive reaction. “Couple of guys who came into the diner invited me, said it’d be a cool show. Would be pretty fun if you came with.”

“Yeah!” Debbie blurted, excitement bleeding through her attempts to seem unaffected. “I mean, yes. I wanna go.”

“Great! Let me just go get changed, and we’ll head out.”

Glancing back over her shoulder as she headed upstairs, Fiona caught sight of Debbie grinning to herself, the happiness clear on her face. Smiling in satisfaction, she ran the rest of the way up, eager to get the night started.

*  
Carl grabbed the stolen chain from his pocket, pulling it over his head and positioning it on top of his shirt as he walked toward the stretch of sidewalk under the bridge. It was a small bit of camouflage, a weak attempt to fit in with G-Dogg’s crew, but it settled something in his gut and gave him an extra bit of confidence as he prepared to start his new venture. 

The other kids glanced over as he approached, dismissing him on sight and turning back to face the street, watching for potential customers. Carl watched as a car drove up, admiring the speed and slickness of the exchange as one of them stepped up to the window and made a quick trade with the man inside, the car driving off within seconds of stopping. 

“You’re pretty good at that,” Carl offered carefully, trying not to sound too eager. 

The kid looked over at Carl, sniffing loudly and staring at him with a neutral face. “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool,” he replied, leaning in conspiratorially and nodding his head in greeting. “I’m Carl.”

“And?” he said aggressively. “Move along, whitebread.” He turned back to his comrades, gesturing to Carl and shaking his head. 

Carl shuffled nervously on his feet as they all laughed, unsure how to take back control of the interaction. “I’m supposed to work with you guys,” he explained, confidence rapidly deserting him as he took in their expressions of disbelief. “Um, G-Dogg said to come here, that I could help out. He said you guys would show me the ropes.”

“He didn’t tell us shit about no white boy,” another kid spoke up, moving toward Carl with narrowed eyes. Just before he reached him, a black SUV pulled up next to the curb. His eyes widened in surprise, and he stepped back from Carl to watch the man leaning out of the window.

“Hey Gallagher,” G-Dogg said, sticking his hand out to greet Carl. “The boys rolling out the welcome mat for you?”

“Yeah,” the kid closest to Carl said quickly. “Course, boss.”

He eyed them speculatively, giving them a pointed glare when they continued looking back and forth between him and Carl like they were trying to solve a puzzle. Carl watched in fascination as they all scrambled to get back to work, spreading out and scanning the area for customers.

He turned back to see G-Dogg looking over his outfit. “Change of plans, kid. Put these on.”

Carl instinctively caught the bundle he threw out the window, looking down to see a white button down shirt and a pair of khakis. Brow furrowing in confusion, he turned back to his new boss. “You want me to wear these?”

“I can’t be having you look like a hoodlum,” he answered, gesturing at the rest of his crew in demonstration. “You’re supposed to draw in the uptight white people, you gotta look _approachable _.”__

“Approachable?” Carl asked. The idea was foreign to him, as he spent most of his time trying to be as intimidating as possible.

“There’s a whole untapped market in this neighborhood, too scared to roll up on my boys here.” G-Dogg pointed at a car nearing their stretch of sidewalk in demonstration. Carl watched it slow down as it approached before abruptly speeding up again. “You see that? They know exactly what we got down here, and they want it, but they too scared to stop. You gonna change that. Gonna look nice and safe, draw them in. Like a greeter at Walmart, you feel me?”

Carl nodded slowly. “Okay."

“And you’re not sellin’ here, got a prime spot picked out for you.” G-Dogg glanced around, beckoning Carl closer. “Somewhere that’s gonna feel a little safer for our new clientele. Get in, we’ll get you set up with a couple of my guys and go over the protocol.” 

__Carl glanced anxiously behind him, uncertain. Finding the rest of the boys watching him impassively, he squared his shoulders, letting out a deep breath as he turned back to the car and met G-Dogg’s eyes. He clutched the bundle of clothes tighter, nodding his head._ _

__“Let’s do this,” he said, and climbed inside._ _

__*  
"Good, Ig. Stay on him, tell me when it's done," Mickey spoke quietly into the phone. He ended the call, turning to face Ian and Mandy with a triumphant expression._ _

__Ian looked to him eagerly, still struggling to contain his aggravated energy. Mandy kept her face neutral, waiting with feigned indifference for Mickey to share the news._ _

__"He took the car," Mickey finally confirmed, watching her carefully as Ian whooped and thrust his arms into the air beside her. "Iggy just made the call to get him picked up."_ _

__Mandy pulled her sleeves down over her fingers, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. "Surprised he agreed to rat."_ _

__Mickey shrugged. "Didn’t take much to convince him. Blood loyalty overrules the code."_ _

__Mandy felt the strange desire to laugh, and twisted her mouth to the side to control it. "Whatever. Gonna shower."_ _

__"Mandy," Ian called after her, smiling when she turned to look at him. Most of the tension that had been hovering around him all day was gone, his face relaxed for the moment. He almost seemed like the same old Ian, except for that bit of edge in his eyes. "It's a good thing. I promise."_ _

__She mustered up a weak smile to send him in return, continuing on her way to the bathroom. Once the water was running, she stripped and stepped inside, savoring the burn of the near scalding drops as they beat against her skin. Hanging her head, Mandy stood still and let it wash over her, taking some of the tension from the day with it._ _

__Just as the skin around her fingernails was starting to prune, she felt a presence in the room, the barely audible creak of the door telling her she was no longer alone. Peeking out from the curtain, she saw Mickey resting against the door jamb._ _

__"It's done," he told her, raising a brow at her expectantly._ _

__Mandy turned the water off, grabbing her towel from the rack and running it over her body briskly. "They haul him in?"_ _

__Mickey rubbed a hand against the back of his neck as he answered. "Yeah. I'll have Iggy keep an eye on it, let us know when arraignment’s over. But with his record, don't think we gotta worry about him gettin' out on bail."_ _

__Mandy wrapped the towel around her chest, pulling the curtain all the way back and stepping out of the tub. She looked past his shoulder, seeking out that familiar streak of orange red. "Where's Ian?"_ _

__"Callin' his brother. Wanted to thank him for helping or some shit."_ _

__Mandy nodded, twisting her hair over the sink to squeeze some of the water out. "He calm down?"_ _

__Mickey looked away uncomfortably. "Much as he can. Seems happier, at least."_ _

__Mandy accepted that, moving to stand in front of the sink. She wiped the steam from the mirror, peering at her reflection in the shattered glass._ _

__"You ever feel like you'll never really be clean?"_ _

__She turned back to find Mickey watching her from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and expression inscrutable. "Like you can scrub and scrub until your skin turns raw, but you'll never wash it all away. Like you're working with black soap."_ _

__Mickey opened his mouth to reply, pausing to scratch at his eyebrow. "Used to. Not as much anymore."_ _

__Mandy smiled sadly. "Because of him?"_ _

__Mickey shrugged, glancing over his shoulder to where Ian sat on the couch, that soft look he got whenever he saw him settling over his face._ _

__"We handled it today," Mandy conceded, picking up the thread of their earlier conversation. "But we can't keep going on like this, Mick. He needs help."_ _

__" _We're_ helping him," Mickey insisted quietly, like maybe he was trying to convince himself. "You and me, his brothers and sisters. We can take care of him."_ _

__Mandy sighed, brushing her shoulder against his as she stepped out of the bathroom. "I hope you're right."_ _

__She continued down the hall into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she choked out a sob, running her hands over her damp hair and tugging at the tangled strands. She breathed deep, pushing the rest down._ _

__Walking over to her bed, Mandy stared at the empty space that she could never quite fill on her own. She dropped her towel, climbing under the sheet and settling as she heard the sound of Ian and Mickey's laughter floating in from the living room._ _

__Mandy turned away from it, tired eyes fixing on the wall. She clutched her pillow tight, eyes drifting closed._ _

__*  
Lip took another sip of his beer, listening to his new coworkers chatter around him. He was working hard to seem upbeat and alert, trying his best to hide the exhaustion he could feel sweeping over him as he thought longingly of home._ _

__"You did alright today, college," Tommy remarked, interrupting his thoughts and tipping his half empty cup to him in salute. "Most of you soft fuckers can't even last one day."_ _

__Lip raised his drink in return, nodding in acknowledgment. "Just trying to keep up with you, man."_ _

__"By the end of summer, you'll be hard as any of the rest of us," Sully cut in, slapping Lip too roughly on the shoulder and causing some of his beer to spill onto the already sticky table. "Go back to school looking like a real man, them college girls’ll be all over you."_ _

__Lip barely suppressed his eye roll. "Yeah, can't wait."_ _

__"I, for one, think you should all halt work on that godforsaken place," Frank piped up from his place hunched over the bar, mouth tightening in a disapproving frown. "That complex is everything that’s wrong with this neighborhood. Don’t you understand what’s happening? Gentrification, my friends."_ _

__“Here we go.” Veronica sighed behind him, setting a fresh mug down in front of Kermit and grabbing a towel to start drying glasses._ _

__“They’re trying to drive us out!” Frank bellowed. “They’re going to fill that place with shops none of us can afford, buy up all our property, force us out of our homes! And you’re helping them.”_ _

__“I don’t know,” Kermit said timidly. “I wouldn’t mind a couple new shops. The wife’s excited, she’s sick of going across town every time she wants to buy something decent.”_ _

__“Well then why doesn’t she go, and leave this neighborhood to the people who like it just as it is?” Frank snapped._ _

__"Jesus, Frank, give it a rest," Tommy groused. He turned to Lip, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. "He like this at home?"_ _

__"You think I'd let him into my home?" Lip retorted, smiling in satisfaction when the guys laughed heartily._ _

__"Ungrateful brats, all my kids," Frank muttered, gesturing for Veronica to pour him another one._ _

__Veronica shook her head and pointed over to Frank's tab where it was taped to the mirror for all to see. "You're tapped out, Frank. You put a dent in that, and we'll talk."_ _

__Frank scowled at her. “This place is a lot more friendly when your husband is behind the bar. He understands a man’s need to let off some steam.”_ _

__“My heart bleeds for you,” Veronica snorted, moving away from him to wipe down the end of the bartop. “Pay up or shut up.”_ _

__Frank spun around on his stool, surveying the bar and spotting the pitcher on Lip's table. He grabbed his glass and lurched over, settling in the chair next to him._ _

__"Don't mind if I do, son," he said jovially, snatching the pitcher and filling his cup halfway before Tommy took it back._ _

__Lip leaned away from Frank and rose from his chair as he downed the rest of his beer. "That's my cue.”_ _

__"Don't let your piece of shit dad drive you away," Tommy lamented, ignoring Frank’s offended scoff._ _

__"It's cool, need to go hang with my siblings for a bit." Lip offered a quick salute as he stepped toward the door. "See ya bright and early."_ _

__He made his way outside, throwing a hand over his shoulder to acknowledge the goodbyes that were being shouted after him. Lip felt his shoulders relax as soon as he was around the corner, muscles unclenching as he walked the familiar path home._ _

__Checking his phone, he saw that Amanda had sent him a picture. It was just her, laid out on a lounge chair with a big floppy hat on her head, sand below her and the Miami sun highlighting the smile on her face. He couldn't stop his own smile as he looked down at the image._ _

__Scrolling through, he saw a few other messages, all sent in the last hour, and all from Ian. Lip's smile faded as he read through them, a frantic accounting of Ian's ideas for his future, each more ludicrous than the last. Lip felt the exhaustion creeping back up, at a loss for how to respond. The scheme with Kenyatta hadn't distracted Ian for long, and he was already keyed up again._ _

__Climbing up the porch steps, Lip was disappointed to see that the house was completely dark. He stepped inside, eyes scanning over the quiet living room._ _

__"Carl!" he shouted, looking up the stairs and hoping to hear some movement. "Debs!"_ _

__His calls were met with silence. Lip sighed, sinking heavily onto the couch and reaching underneath himself to remove one of Liam’s stuffed animals where its hard nose was digging into the back of his thigh. He smiled when he realized it was actually one of his and Ian’s, the years of wear and tear evident as he took in the dirt and dust caked into the fabric, the place where one of its limbs was nearly detached. He tossed the toy aside, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he felt a deep sadness settling into his bones._ _

__Resigning himself to a night alone, he pulled his phone out again, bringing up Amanda's picture and gazing at it for a few moments. Finally, he hit the button in the corner, listening patiently to the sound of her line ringing until she picked up._ _

__"Lip?" Her voice was surprised, and maybe a little bit happy. "Thought you were out doing your male bonding ritual tonight."_ _

__"I was," he sighed, sinking further into the couch. "But I'm home now. Saw your picture."_ _

__He could practically hear her sly smile. "Like what you see, huh?"_ _

__"Yeah," Lip replied truthfully, glancing around the empty house once more before closing his eyes. "Wish I was there."_ _

__*  
Fiona laughed as Debbie tugged her into the dimly lit bar, reveling in her sister's giddy energy. It had been far too long since they'd spent any real time together, and she loved the feeling of having her close again. She felt a twinge of unease as she took in the crowd, struck by the juxtaposition of Debbie's young face against the much older patrons, but she shrugged it off. She would stay with her, and it would be fine._ _

__Pushing through the crowd to get to the bar, she stuck two fingers in the air, grinning at the cute bartender when he rushed over to grab two beers for her. She threw a ten dollar bill down on the bartop with a smile, picking up the bottles and turning back to hand one to Debbie, delighting in her scandalized look._ _

__"Come on, let's dance!" Fiona shouted to be heard over the music, pushing Debbie toward the open space in front of the stage. One of the guys from the diner was front and center on the small platform, singing into the microphone. He winked at Fiona when he saw her, and she smiled back flirtatiously._ _

__"Which one is the guy you like?" Debbie asked, leaning close and speaking directly into her ear._ _

__Fiona laughed, shaking her head. "These guys? Nah, they're nothin’ special. A bit of fun, but not worth getting worked up about."_ _

__“They’re not?” Debbie asked skeptically._ _

__“To tell ya the truth, I think they’re kind of boring,” Fiona replied honestly. “You know how many douchey guys play the guitar? Like I’m supposed to lose my shit over that.”_ _

__Debbie nodded seriously. "Got it."_ _

__Fiona smiled, charmed by the way Debbie was looking at her, almost like she wanted to be just like her. It was a nice change from the eye rolls and snide remarks that had become her main form of communication in the last few months. She bumped their hips together, running a hand over Debbie’s hair. "Come on, we’re here to have fun. Dance with me!"_ _

__She grabbed Debbie's arm, twirling her and jumping around her, trying to get her comfortable in the foreign atmosphere. She started to relax, dancing back at Fiona with a goofy expression on her face, until a drunk guy twice _Fiona’s_ age came up behind her and tried to grab her hips._ _

__Fiona's face immediately hardened, a fierce protectiveness sweeping through her, and she stopped to address him firmly. "Back off, buddy."_ _

__He raised his hands in the air, stepping back without incident. Fiona shook her head at Debbie in exasperation, grabbing her hand again to resume their dance as the next song began. After a few moments, the lead singer crooked his finger at her, inviting her to come dance on stage. Fiona shrugged at Debbie, loving the awed expression on her face as she watched her step up to join the band._ _

__She was only gone for a minute before the drunk guy was back, grinding on Debbie aggressively. Fiona took in her expression, that familiar mix of excitement and discomfort, happy for the attention while at the same time having no idea what to do with it. Just as she moved to intervene again, the guy slithered his hand around Debbie's hip, gripping her close. Fiona saw red._ _

__Jumping from the stage, she stalked over to them, shoving at the guy's shoulder and pulling Debbie behind her protectively. "Hey asshole, I told you to back off. She's only fourteen!"_ _

__He scoffed loudly, glancing around at the other patrons for support. "Bitch is asking for it, putting on a show in the middle of the bar."_ _

__Fiona lashed out, swinging at his face and wincing at the sting against her knuckles when her fist connected. She barely had time to blink before he was retaliating, striking her hard across the cheek and sending her staggering back into Debbie._ _

__"Fiona!" she shouted, looking around nervously as more people jumped into the fray, going for the drunk. "Are you okay?"_ _

__Fiona laughed, basking in the sudden chaos, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she grabbed Debbie's hand and started to run. "Come on!"_ _

__They pushed through the door quickly, pounding down the sidewalk. Fiona ran fast, loving the feel of the breeze in her hair and Debbie’s hand wrapped securely in hers as she towed her down the street. She felt Debbie slowing her pace and shook her head, glancing back over her shoulder to meet her eyes._ _

__“Come on, Debs. You wanna dress like that and dance in bars, you gotta learn to run faster!”_ _

__She turned back to skate around a corner, continuing one more block before stopping abruptly, giggling when Debbie crashed into her back and sent her staggering._ _

__“Oh my god!” Debbie exclaimed, bringing her hands up to cover her cheeks as she panted. “Fiona!”_ _

__Fiona grinned happily, leaning back against the brick building next to them as she slowly came down, breath evening out and blood slowing in her veins. She watched as Debbie came to rest against the wall a few feet down from her, looking over at her in shock._ _

__“That was awesome!”_ _

__“Yeah?” Fiona asked, flipping her hair away from her neck in an attempt to cool off. “Had fun?”_ _

__“Hell yeah,” Debbie said enthusiastically. “It was so cool. Drinking and dancing and cute guys hitting on us and oh my god, I can’t believe you punched that guy!”_ _

__Fiona’s smile began to fade as she listened to Debbie’s summary of their night. It didn’t sound so good, coming from her little sister’s mouth._ _

__“Seriously, you could have violated your probation again! That was so brave.”_ _

__Fiona’s mouth flattened out completely, the energy buzzing through her veins abruptly disappearing, leaving her feeling empty. She looked Debbie over, the flush on her cheeks, that gleam in her eye, the way she stared dreamily up at the stars. Like this was the best night of her life and all she wanted was more, more, more._ _

__Fiona thought about that notepad again, all her transgressions listed out in an effort to make herself accountable. She focused on one item in particular, the most important, stricken by the risk she’d just taken without a thought, the things she’d exposed Debbie to without a care._ _

_Not taking guardianship seriously_

____A pit formed in her stomach as she sunk into a crouch, leaning heavily back against the wall. She looked away from Debbie, suddenly pained by her happy expression. Releasing a long, shaky sigh, Fiona buried her face in her hands._ _ _ _


	3. The Difference Lies Inside

Debbie stepped into the kitchen, already feeling a sheen of sweat developing across her forehead. The summer heat was accentuated by the flame from the stove where Fiona stood watching a pancake slowly turn golden.

“Hey, sleepy.” Fiona smiled up at her as she slid the spatula swiftly beneath the pancake and plopped it onto a plate. “You hungry?”

“Pancakes again?” Debbie rubbed Liam’s head as she walked by, taking a seat at the counter next to him.

“At Liam’s request,” Fiona replied, pouring more batter into the pan.

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” Liam corrected excitedly.

“Or,” Fiona said as she held up a plastic bag, “busted up Hershey’s bar pancakes. We improvised, huh, Liam?”

“We didn’t have chocolate chips,” he told Debbie with a serious expression.

Debbie smiled at him, reaching across to grab a couple pieces of broken chocolate out of the bag. She popped one in her mouth and handed the other to Liam who giggled his thanks.

“So, what are your plans for today?” Debbie asked, turning back to Fiona.

“Gotta take Liam to the doctor for his check-up and then I was gonna run some errands,” Fiona answered. “I work the dinner shift tonight.”

“And then?” Debbie pressed.

Fiona furrowed her brow. “And then, what?”

“After work. Why don’t you find something to do? Go have fun. Not, like, drug fun. But normal fun.”

Fiona eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

“I’m having a party,” Debbie casually informed her.

“A party?” Carl asked from out of sight. Debbie leaned to see him sprawled out on the couch in the living room. “Who’s even gonna come?”

Debbie sat back again, intent on ignoring the question but catching Fiona’s persistent look. “Just a few friends,” she shrugged.

“You don’t have any,” Carl chimed in again.

“Acquaintances,” she shouted.

Carl chuckled. “Don’t got any of those either.”

Debbie stood and moved toward the fridge, flipping Carl off on the way. She grabbed the milk and poured herself a glass as Fiona continued the interrogation.

“How many’s a few?” she asked, her hands on her hips. “Like a sleepover?”

Debbie rolled her eyes. “I’m not five, it’s not a slumber party. Liam, do you want some milk?”

He shook his head hard. “No, apple juice!”

“So boys and girls?” Fiona asked, looking at her expectantly. Debbie knew that look. It was the look Fiona got whenever she was trying to toe the line between pushing enough to get what she wanted and pushing to the point where she’d get her head bit off.

“Yes,” Debbie growled, growing aggravated. She put Liam’s apple juice in front of him and reclaimed her seat, grabbing a pancake in hopes that a full mouth would get her out of answering more questions.

“Well, me and Liam will hang out upstairs,” Fiona offered. “We won’t bother you guys. I don’t know if I like the idea of a party with no chaperone.”

“A chaperone?” Debbie said incredulously, her mouthful of pancake barely stifling her shriek. “I’m not a baby.”

Fiona cocked her head to the side. “Debs.”

“I’m a teenager, Fiona. Let me do normal teenager stuff.”

“Are we talking about sex?” Lip asked as he entered the room.

“No!” Debbie exclaimed. She could feel her cheeks reddening at the absurd conversation.

“You sure?” Fiona questioned accusingly.

Debbie groaned and rolled her eyes. “It’s just a party. Why do we have to make such a big deal about it?”

“You’re going to a party?” Lip asked. He grabbed a plate and piled a few pancakes on it before pulling up a chair at the table.

“She’s _throwing_ a party,” Fiona told him. “Here. In the building that houses her bed.”

Debbie ignored her, tired of the dramatics. She turned her attention to her brother instead.

“Lip, are you gonna be home early?”

Lip scratched at the back of his head. “Uh, well, the guys apparently go to the Alibi after work every fucking night so I’ll either be there ‘til late or I’ll pass out from exhaustion and won’t make it home at all.”

“Perfect,” Debbie said, throwing her arms out in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Lip took a bite of his breakfast and Fiona cut up a pancake for Liam. Debbie breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the conversation appeared to be over.

“Hey, you think I should leave the condoms in my drawer to encourage safe sex?” Lip quipped. “Or should I take them out and cross my fingers you and the other horndog tweens practice abstinence?”

Debbie let out another dramatic groan. She threw the rest of her pancake in the trash and dropped her plate in the sink with a loud clank, not offering her siblings another word as she headed out the door.

“Leave them,” she heard Carl say to Lip as she stomped out of the house.

*

Ian blinked his eyes open when he heard a knock on the front door. He turned to see Mickey’s side of the bed vacant, a clue that it couldn’t be very early.

He grabbed his phone and winced at the blinding light from the screen. 9:53. He hadn’t gotten home from the club until after 4 last night, but he still hated sleeping this late. By the time he ate, ran, and showered it would already be mid-afternoon. The day was practically shot.

He hopped out of bed, pulling on the tank top he had worn home last night and a pair of discarded boxers from the floor.

Rubbing his eyes and squinting at the daylight shining into the house, he entered the living room to find Mickey signing a clipboard and handing it back to another man.

“What’s this?” Ian asked, noticing a suitcase sitting on the couch.

Mickey looked up at the sound of Ian’s voice. “They found my suitcase.”

“Suitcase?”

Mickey stared at him. “From my trip.”

“Trip?” Ian wasn’t sure Mickey had ever taken a trip in his entire lifetime, let alone the past few weeks.

Mickey threw him a death glare and something clicked in Ian’s brain. “Ah, right. Forgot,” he said, glancing at the man who had delivered the suitcase.

Mickey looked over at the man as well. “I’m sorry, are you waiting for a fucking tip or something? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure you guys lost the baggage, right?”

The guy stood there, taken aback by Mickey’s bluntness.

Mickey raised his eyebrows in annoyance. “That means go, goodbye, thank you. Holy fuck.”

Ian laughed under his breath as the man quickly backed out of the house, tripping over air before slamming the door behind him.

Ian walked further into the living room, joining Mickey in front of the couch.

“Nice suitcase… Clark Belding,” he quipped, reading the tag on the luggage.

“Dumbass shows up at my door, tells me he’s with an airline, and hands me somebody’s shit,” Mickey said as he unzipped the bag.

“Mixed up the first two numbers of the address,” Ian noted. “They’ll be back for it, ya know.”

“They’ll be shit outta luck, won’t they? Let’s see what we got.”

They rifled through the seemingly mundane contents, mostly khaki shorts and ugly shirts that led Ian to assume Clark Belding had gone somewhere tropical.

Mickey pulled out a vibrant Hawaiian shirt. “Think this’ll fit? Kinda sexy,” he teased, holding it up and dancing for Ian’s amusement.

Ian chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure it looked great on Clark. He’s probably eighty years old, this shit smells like BenGay.”

Mickey threw the shirt over his shoulder, grinning widely as he went back to sifting through the suitcase.

Ian stopped when his hand found a pill bottle. “Lisinopril,” he read. “What’s that?”

“Never heard of it.” Mickey snatched the bottle out of Ian’s hand to inspect it himself. “I’ll ask Iggy, see if we can get any cash for it.”

Ian’s ears perked up at the mention of money. They could sell this stuff. Not that most of it was worth much, but there might be some jewelry they could pawn or pills they could sell or designer handbags that any woman around here would buy for a steal.

“Ain’t shit else in here,” Mickey said, interrupting Ian’s thoughts. “You see anything good?”

“I’ll sort through it later,” Ian responded.

“Whatever. Take what you want, but this is mine.” Mickey pulled off his t-shirt and slid into the Hawaiian button down. He held out his arms for Ian to ogle him. “Huh? What do you think?”

Ian laughed at his antics. “Oh, very you.”

“Asshole.” Mickey smirked as he shoved him. “Fuck you, you’re just jealous I found it first.”

Ian smiled absentmindedly, his eyes going back to the luggage. If they had more suitcases, odds were they’d find at least a few things worth some dough.

“Hey, you wanna come back down to earth?” Mickey joked as he placed his hands on either side of Ian’s torso, snapping him out of his trance.

Ian shifted his gaze back to Mickey, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of the grin spread across his face. He looked so happy. Ian returned the smile before leaning in to kiss him, one of his hands finding the back of Mickey’s neck to pull him closer.

“Ya know,” Ian said between kisses. “That shirt actually makes you look pretty irresistible.”

He could feel Mickey’s smile against his mouth. Mickey kissed him once more, lingering before he pulled away, much to Ian’s disappointment.

“I can’t,” he groaned, telling Ian he wasn’t thrilled about the sudden lack of kissing either. “I gotta head to the Alibi. You wanna come with?”

Ian sighed. “Nah, you already let me sleep half the day away. Got some stuff I wanna do today.”

“Alright, man.” Mickey grabbed a pack of cigarettes and his phone off the coffee table, shoving them in his pocket. He gave Ian’s arm a gentle squeeze as he walked past him. “I’ll see you later.”

Ian turned back to the suitcase as Mickey walked out the door, anxious to put his plan in motion.

*

“Frank!” Sheila called as she trotted down the stairs to the basement. She found him crouched down next to a jug, jiggling a tube inside it and watching the drops of liquid slowly fall. “Frank, you’ve been down here for forever. Don’t you need to come up for air? Have you taken your meds? Have you even eaten today?”

Frank stood but didn’t acknowledge her, his eyes fixed on the tube as he went around to the other side.

“This goddamn thing is so slow,” he muttered to no one in particular. “I’m trying to figure out how to make it go faster. I revamped the filtration system but it didn’t do me any good.”

Sheila grabbed a stool from the corner and pulled it over to the table, taking a seat as Frank poured something into his concoction.

“I need to talk to you, Frank. I’ve put a lot of thought into what we discussed and I really think we should do it.” She waited for a response, wringing her hands in her lap as she looked at him expectantly. When he neither spoke nor looked her way, she continued, “I want to see the world, Frank! Paris and Rome and Rio de Janeiro! The beaches of Normandy and the Egyptian Pyramids! An African safari, an adventure in the rainforest! Of course, all that’s down the line a little, I mean we can’t drive an RV to those places, but we have our whole lives ahead of us-”

Frank stopped whatever nonsense he was doing and turned to Sheila, finally acknowledging her presence. “Wait, an RV? The hell are you on about?”

“I think we should do it!” she exclaimed, not letting Frank’s lack of listening skills discourage her. “I think we should sell the house and buy an RV and see the world. Or just the continental US, for now. The first stop, of course, will be Sedona. I miss my Karen and Hymie so much. And then we’ll hit the open road.”

Frank scowled. “Sell the house? Are you nuts? You never mentioned that to me. I would remember saying _hell no_.”

“I’ve tried to talk to you about this three times! Remember, those nice ladies offered to pay double market value? You told me you would consider it.”

“That?” he spat, a grin stretching across his face; a grin that suggested the idea was preposterous. “I thought you were kidding.”

Frank went back to work, measuring out ingredients as Sheila pulled the brochures from the pocket of her apron. She shuffled them excitedly, choosing which she should tell him about first.

“Look, I’ve been doing some research and I already found a bunch of fun stuff for us to do. Like there’s this place in California where they coat you in oil and then they whip you with palm leaves. It’s suppose to be good for your epidermis. And I found this other place, it’s a robot hall of horrors where you can buy dessert from an actual frozen yogurt robot.” She accentuated the last few words, her eyes growing wide at the prospect of dessert robots.

Frank poured something into a measuring cup. “Hand me that funnel, would you?” he asked, gesturing toward the shelf behind Sheila. She obliged, thrusting the plastic cup into his hand and watching as Frank carried on as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

“And, and! There’s this place. A theme park dedicated to jam. An entire theme park dedicated to jam, Frank! Oh, and look at this one!” She held up the brochure, flailing it wildly in hopes that it would gain Frank’s attention. “This park in Virginia, they call it the best playground in America! Look how colorful it is! Hymie would love it!”

Frank shook his head in disregard. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. Someone put an order in for my beer. I have got a _lot_ of work to do. I can’t chit-chat with you right now.”

“Come on, Frank,” Sheila persisted. She stood up and took a step closer to him, the brochures clenched tightly in her hands. “We need a little adventure in our lives. It would reignite our romance. We’ve lost the spark. I want the spark back! And I want to be free, and I want to see Karen and Hymie!”

“Sheils, honey.” Frank pulled off his gloves and turned toward her, sandwiching her face between his hands. “We are not selling the house. We are not buying an RV. We’ve got everything we need right here. Just the two of us.” He patted her cheek before letting her go. “But you’re right, I haven’t eaten all day. Could you be a dear and bring me a sandwich?”

Frank smiled at her and didn’t wait for an answer. He resumed his work, fiddling with a tube here and stirring something there. Sheila nodded solemnly at his back, staying rooted where she was as she contemplated showing him the brochures again, considering pushing the subject further.

She stuffed the brochures back in her pocket and climbed the stairs, head held high as she tried to swallow the discouragement.

*

“Fuck,” Mickey said under his breath as he approached the Alibi.

The place was swarming with cops. He watched as the girls were ushered out of the rub ‘n tug and into a police van, brushing casually past them as he entered the bar.

He walked in to find Kevin and Veronica both behind the bar, Kevin stocking the liquor shelf and Veronica soothing the fussy babies in her arms.

“We got busted again?” Mickey asked as he pulled up a stool.

“Yeah, third fucking time,” Kevin griped. “You’d think the cops would be out there catching real criminals but no, they gotta come here and take food outta my babies’ mouths.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kevin looked over to Veronica. She rolled her eyes and gave an angry snort, sealing her lips together tightly as she stalked to the other end of the bar. Mickey watched them, confused.

Kevin sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s just an expression, Vee.”

“Yeah,” Veronica huffed. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me putting a closed sign on my tits. We can’t go five fucking seconds without mentioning that, can we?”

“I didn’t bring it up, you did!” Kevin blurted out.

Judging by the look on Veronica’s face, it hadn’t been the right thing to say. Mickey stared at his hands resting on the bar as he mindlessly chewed his lip, watching the scene unfold in his peripherals.

Veronica shook her head, lifting one of the kids out of the carrier. “I’m not doing this again. Here, take them. I’m gonna go clean the bathrooms.”

“I can do it,” Kevin offered, making no move to take the baby from her extended arms.

“Kev, I need ten minutes where they’re not strapped to my chest, okay?” She jostled the infant in her hands, encouraging Kevin to take her.

“You need to bond with them, Vee. Breastfeeding is the ideal form of bonding between mother and child and if you’re not doing that then you have to compensate in other ways.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Veronica droned. Mickey winced, eternally grateful that he wasn’t in Kevin’s position right now.

“No, I didn’t mean to bring it up again, I just-” Kevin started, but Veronica cut him off.

“No, no, here. Take them.” She handed the babies off to Kevin, dropping the carrier on the floor. “I’m going to clean the bathrooms, and when I get back you three can go home and _bond_ if it’s so important to you, okay? I’ve had enough _bonding_ for the day.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Mickey heard her mumble as she walked away.

Kevin sighed deeply. He looked down at the babies in his arms, then at the discarded carrier on the floor. He juggled the twins awkwardly for a moment, attempting to figure out a way to hold them both while picking up the carrier and strapping it around himself. Finally, he leaned across the bar to Mickey.

“Here, hold them for a second.”

Mickey opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind when he read Kevins’s defeated expression. Suddenly, he found himself with two infants in his arms.

“I think this one shit,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he eyed the culprit.

Kevin finished fastening the carrier and took the baby from Mickey. He laid her gently on the bar and started unsnapping her onesie, apparently seeing no problem with changing her diaper right then and there.

“Isn’t that a fucking health code violation?” Mickey asked with disgust. The twin that was still in his possession giggled and began to gnaw on Mickey’s thumb.

“When your wife doesn’t take part in the parenting aspect of being a parent you do what you gotta do,” Kevin said, pulling a diaper and a box of wipes from somewhere beneath the bar.

Mickey reached to grab a glass with his free hand. “Trouble in paradise, huh?”

“I don’t get it, man,” Kevin said as he shook his head. “She doesn’t want to breastfeed, she doesn’t want to hold them. She barely wants to be in the same room as them most of the time. She just wants to come here and work and then come home and have sex. And that’s if she’s even talking to me at all.”

“And you’re complainin'?” Mickey said dryly. He held out his glass to be filled, nodding as Kevin poured until it nearly reached the brim.

“How can we have sex when Amy’s crying or when we’re worrying about Gemma’s poop? The babies come first. She doesn’t get that.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, acknowledging Kevin’s grievances. “One good thing I can say about my wife is she takes care of the kid. Lets me get away with the bare minimum. Plus Ian loves stupid shit like changin' diapers and takin' the kid for runs. And Mandy helps. See, that’s your problem, man. There’s just two of you. Get a boyfriend and a sister and things’ll go a lot smoother.”

Kevin didn’t even crack a smile at Mickey’s attempt to lighten the mood. “But that’s not even it,” he said, taking the baby from Mickey once the other was safely in the carrier. “I don’t mind taking care of them. I love feeding them and rocking them to sleep and giving them baths, all that stuff. Whenever I’m with them, I’m happy. I just wish Vee felt that way too.”

“It’s not that easy for everybody,” Mickey said pensively as he stared into his glass and bit his lip, not sure what to say to console Kevin. He wasn’t good with the whole giving advice thing to begin with, and relationships and kids weren’t really his forte.

“Ian said Svetlana still breastfeeds?” Kevin asked, saving Mickey from having to offer up some weak reassurance.

Mickey nodded. “Swear that kid’s attached to her rack like twelve hours a day.”

“See, why can’t Vee be like that? Breastfeeding is like God’s gift to babies. And mothers. It’s so good for them and it’s a bonding experience-”

Mickey stopped him there. “Pretty sure if you tell her that again she’ll break your fuckin’ nose.”

Kevin glanced despondently toward the bathrooms. “She was so excited to be a mom and now-” he looked down just in time to see one of the twins spit up all over her bright pink onesie.

“Can’t say I blame her,” Mickey said, downing the rest of his whiskey.

“Yeah, well. We can’t all have perfect relationships like you and Ian,” Kevin jibed, soliciting an eyeroll and a middle finger from Mickey. “Nice shirt, by the way. The boyfriend buy that for you?”

“Yeah,” Mickey scoffed, glancing down at his Hawaiian getup. “Like that asshole could pick out somethin’ this good.”

*

“Hey, party tonight, free beer! Party tonight, plenty of alcohol to go around. Party tonight! You don’t wanna miss it.”

Debbie delivered a line to each person she handed a flyer to, the words “free beer” scrawled largely across the page. She approached every person at the pool, flashing them a smile when they nodded eagerly. Free booze was always a hit.

“Hi!” she squeaked enthusiastically at a guy lounging in a chair, shirt off and a hat shielding his face from the sun. “I’m having a party tonight, you should come.”

The guy lifted the hat from his face and squinted up at Debbie. He was cute. Very cute. She could tell he was older than her; none of the fourteen year olds she knew had abs like that. She felt her face grow flush and her heart speed up.

“You should come,” she repeated. She sat a flyer down on his stomach and he looked at it in confusion before picking it up.

“How old are you?” he asked.

Debbie stood up straighter at his condescending tone. “Why?”

He gave Debbie a once-over before offering the flyer back to her. “I’m a senior. I don’t go to middle school parties.”

Debbie swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly dry. She looked away and was about to leave it at that, intimidated by the older boy, when a sudden bout of confidence put wind in her sails.

“I’m not in middle school. And there’s going to be older people there,” she added, thinking fast. “College kids.”

The guy raised a skeptical brow.

“My boyfriend’s in college,” Debbie continued, stretching the truth. She hoped Matty would not only agree to come but also bring some friends to represent the college demographic.

“Free beer?” the guy asked, reading the flyer. “What kind?”

“Home-brewed. Strongest stuff you’ll ever taste. Bring your own if you don’t think you can handle it.”

Debbie strutted away, smiling at her own brilliance. She handed out a few more flyers before heading down the street, making her way to Slice of Pizza Heaven.

A few blocks before she reached her destination, she spotted Holly, Ellie, and the rest of their new gang walking her way.

“Aw, look. It’s little Debbie Gallagher,” Holly goaded, which was more than Debbie had been expecting. “Nice hair.”

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” she asked nervously, attempting to play it cool. “How’ve you been?”

Holly ignored the question and nodded at the papers clutched in Debbie’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I’m having a party tonight!” Debbie informed them, offering Holly a flyer.

Holly exchanged an amused look with her friends, ignoring Debbie’s outstretched arm.

“No one’s going to want to go to _your_ party,” she spat.

Debbie dropped her hand, frowning. “Why not?”

Holly snorted. “Because you’re lame, because you have no friends, because you’re still a child?” she listed, counting them off on her fingers. “That enough reasons for you? Because I’m sure I can think of more.”

“It’s not a little kid party,” Debbie said defensively, but her voice was no longer strong. “It’s gonna be fun. I’m gonna have my dad’s homemade beer and Fiona won’t be home so we can do whatever we want.”

Holly snatched the flyer out of Debbie’s hand, pretending to consider it before crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it on the ground.

“Unfortunately we already have plans tonight,” she cooed, feigning disappointment. “Hope you have a great time.”

Debbie stared straight ahead as the gaggle of girls walked past her, doing her best to hold in her tears. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction of making her cry. She sniffed sharply, taking in a deep breath to gather herself before continuing on her journey to see Matty.

When the pizza place came into view, Debbie spotted him loading a few boxes into his car.

“Matty!” she called as she jogged toward him. “Hey.”

“Hey, Debbie. What are you doing here?”

“I’m having a party tonight,” she said, giving him a flyer. “You should come! Free beer; Frank made it. Older people are coming, too. And you should bring your friends. Ya know, older friends. It’ll be fun!

Matty nodded, looking over the flyer before locking eyes with Debbie again. She bounced on her toes and ran a hand through her hair, biting her lower lip as she batted her eyelashes at him.

“I, uh, I like your new hair,” he told her as he pointed awkwardly at his own head.

“Thanks,” Debbie replied shyly. “So, will you come?”

Matty looked torn, but ultimately nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll be there,” he said, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Great!” Debbie beamed. “I’ll see you tonight, then. Tell your friends!”

She turned on her heels and walked gleefully back home, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

*

Sheila shouldered open the front door to the Gallagher house, struggling to turn the knob and balance the bulky box in her arms.

“Knock, knock!” she said as she walked in.

“We’re in here!” she heard Fiona shout from the kitchen.

Liam glanced up from his coloring book when she entered the room. “Sheila!” he squealed from his place at the table.

“Hey, Sheila,” Fiona greeted her, smiling over her shoulder as she poured dish soap into the sink.

“Hi! I brought dinner for you guys, and Debbie asked me to drop this off for her.” Sheila slid the box carefully onto the counter before leaning down to kiss Liam’s head and admire his coloring.

“You’re amazing,” Fiona sighed as she put the food in the fridge. “Didn’t have time to cook so you saved us from havin’ cereal for dinner for the third night in a row.”

“It’s a fish,” Liam informed Sheila, pressing his finger into the page.

Sheila gasped at its beauty. “It _is_ a fish. A very colorful fish. And look at how nicely he’s colored. I can tell you took your time on him. Does this fish have a name?”

“Umm,” Liam thought for a moment, staring intently at the scribbled-in figure. “Lip.”

“Oh, Lip is very beautiful.”

Liam grinned proudly and Sheila turned back to Fiona. She looked tired, staring at the sink filling up with water like it might swallow her up if she went near it.

“Well, I have some free time,” Sheila said, causing Fiona to look up at her. “I thought I could lend a hand. Do you need help with anything? I could do up those dishes for you.”

“Sure, that’d be great.” Fiona smiled, clearly relieved by Sheila’s offer and too exhausted to politely decline. “I’ll dry.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, elbows bumping as they worked. Sheila hummed cheerfully as she washed, happy to spend time with someone other than Frank for a change.

“Liam had an appointment today, didn’t he?” she asked, recalling a conversation she’d had with Fiona last week. “How’d that go?”

“Yeah, good. Doctor said everything looks good, he’s developing normally, doesn’t look like there’s any lasting problems.” Fiona let out a deep breath as she turned to look at Liam. “Thank god, right? Don’t know what I’d do with myself if somethin’ was wrong.”

Her voice was heavy with guilt; it made Sheila’s heart sink. She stole a glance at Fiona’s face and noticed her expression was laden with remorse.

“But it’s not. Everything is fine,” Sheila reminded her. She spoke with certainty in hopes that Fiona would put stock into what she was saying. “Mistakes were made, Fiona, but I think you’ve punished yourself enough.”

Fiona let out a sad chuckle. “Don’t think I’ll be done punishing myself for the rest of my life. Anyways,” she said, shaking her head as if she were ridding herself of the emotions that had come over her. “Debbie’s having a party tonight. I’m kinda freakin' out. She’s just so grown up all of a sudden.”

“She’s turning into quite the young woman.”

“I’m not ready for that,” Fiona admitted as she took a dripping plate from Sheila. “But it’s happenin’ anyway so I need to figure it out fast before she slips further away from me.”

Sheila pursed her lips at Fiona’s dilemma. She scrubbed absentmindedly at a plate as she considered her own experience with the same situation. Her face fell into a tight frown when she thought of her relationship with Karen, a sense of regret and yearning washing over her.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I could’ve done differently with Karen. I know I made my share of mistakes and I have plenty of regrets. But do you know what I wish more than anything?” Sheila shrugged at her own simple answer. “I just wish we had talked more.”

“I wish Debbie would talk to me,” Fiona agreed, sounding defeated. “She used to. Now it’s like everything I do is wrong. She keeps pushin’ me away.”

“So don’t let her,” Sheila insisted. “This may come as a surprise to you because I’m such a fireball now, but I used to be a very passive person. I didn’t put in the effort to get Karen to let me in. Learn from my mistakes, Fiona.”

“I’m tryin’,” Fiona said, her tone lacking the optimism Sheila was hoping for.

Sheila lifted a soapy hand out of the dishwater and placed it over Fiona’s. “Don’t give up.”

Fiona nodded, a grateful smile spread across her face. “You’re a good mom, Sheila. Debbie looks up to you, and Liam loves you. He talks about you nonstop. Hey, I was gonna have Kev watch him while I’m at work tonight but if you want to…”

“I would love to!” Sheila exclaimed. “I’m always thrilled to spend time with my Liam.”

Sheila smiled as she scrubbed dried oatmeal off of a pot, eager to spend the evening with Liam. At times she thought of him as her second chance; an opportunity to get the parenting thing right.

But the smile started to fall from her face the more she thought about it. If Liam was her second chance, that meant she had given up on Karen. Karen was still out there. Karen was still her daughter.

“Don’t give up,” she muttered to herself, eyes wide with realization.

“I know,” Fiona said, oblivious to the new meaning Sheila’s words carried. “I won’t.”

Sheila dropped the pot back into the sink and backed away in a hurry, wiping her hands on her skirt. She knew what she had to do.

“Actually…it turns out I won’t be able to watch Liam.”

“Oh.” Fiona’s brows raised in surprise and confusion at Sheila’s sudden change of tune. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Fiona, I just- there’s something I have to do.” She scurried over to Liam and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Goodbye, Liam. I’ll miss you so much.”

Liam returned the hug, patting her arm comfortingly. “Bye, Sheila.”

Her eyes welled up with tears as she smiled at him once more before heading out the door.

*

Ian grabbed another suitcase and placed it on the table, unzipping it to see what this one had to offer. He dug through the clothes to see if any valuables were hidden beneath them and wrapped his fingers around something firm, grinning when he saw what it was.

He looked up from the luggage at the sound of the front door opening. Mickey walked in and immediately looked bewildered.

“The fuck is this?” he asked, gesturing toward the suitcase in front of Ian.

“Your suitcase gave me an idea,” Ian explained. “One of the guys from the club works days at the airport. Gave him a cut and he let me take as much as I wanted. Even let me borrow his van.”

“Gave him a cut of what?”

“Of what we’re gonna make off this,” he said plainly.

Mickey frowned, his brow furrowed in exasperation. “Wha- we’re not making shit off this, Ian. Unless you found organs we can sell on the black market, this tourist junk is worth fuck all. How much you give him?”

Ian looked away, busying himself with folding a shirt as he delivered the news. “Two fifty. And fifty for the van rental.”

“You paid this guy three hundred bucks for a bunch of suitcases?” Mickey repeated, his eyebrows darting to his hairline. When he spoke next, his voice had grown uneasy. “What’s up with you?”

“Just thought it would be a good way to make some money.” Ian shrugged nonchalantly. “What’s the big deal?”

Mickey bit his lower lip, his forehead wrinkled in worry. He didn’t look convinced.

“I was bored,” Ian continued, apparently needing to do more to reassure him. “Seemed like a good idea.”

“Jesus, man,” Mickey said, his tone lighter but his expression still showing his skepticism. “Get a hobby.”

Ian smiled, shaking his head as he flipped Mickey off. Mickey returned the smile and, much to Ian’s relief, didn’t push the subject any further.

“Hey, Mother Theresa,” Mickey said as Svetlana walked into the room, Yevgeny resting sleepily against her shoulder. “Rub ‘n tug got busted again.”

“Again?” she echoed in disbelief. “Where are girls?”

Mickey shrugged. “I don’t know, jail?”

She scowled at him, muttering in Russian as she grabbed the diaper bag and rushed out the door.

Ian looked at Mickey worriedly, about to ask a question about their finances when Mandy emerged from her bedroom.

“Someone needs to go grocery shopping,” she said as she rummaged through the cupboards. “Nothing for me to take to work.”

“You work at a fuckin’ restaurant,” Mickey snapped.

“Cleaning up people’s soggy waffles and omelets soaked in ketchup everyday doesn’t make it all that appetizing. I’ll go shopping after I get out.” She made her way over to Mickey and held out her hand. “Got any cash?”

Ian’s hands automatically went to his own pockets as he mulled over how much cash he had, which he soon remembered was zilch. He’d bought diapers and formula yesterday and gave the rest to Debbie to put in the squirrel fund, feeling guilty that his siblings were struggling without his contributions.

Mickey hesitated, clearly in the mood to give Mandy a hard time. “The hell’s your money going?”

“When’s the last time you went and paid the electric bill?” Mandy glowered at him accusingly.

Mickey dug in his pocket, coming up with a few twenties. “Make it last,” he warned as he slapped the bills into her hand. “Rub ‘n tug’s down and I don’t know when we’re doin’ our next movin' truck gig.”

“What are we gonna do for money?” Ian wondered aloud, worry etched into his face. The moving truck was good cash but it couldn’t be done often enough to be their sole source of income. The rub ‘n tug wasn’t the most hopping place, but it was steady business.

“I don’t know, maybe we can sell some of these fucking shirts and toothbrushes you stole,” Mickey snarked, lifting up what had been a neatly folded tank top before dropping it carelessly back onto the couch in a wrinkled heap. “Quite the loot.”

“It might not be a goldmine but there were some interesting finds,” Ian baited.

Mickey laughed, clearly finding that hard to believe. “Oh yeah, like what?”

“Like this,” Ian said, his face serious as he held up the dildo.

“Jesus,” Mandy muttered, smirking in amusement.

Mickey frowned as he took a step back. “That has a hair on it.”

“What, you don’t want it?”

“Ian, if you come near me with that thing, I swear to god.” Ian inched toward him and Mickey moved quickly, shuffling around the pillar in the middle of the room. “Ian. Ian! Fucking- do not touch me with that thing. Do not- fuck!”

His words were cut off by the dildo smacking him square in the face.

Ian fist pumped, proud of his aim, and he and Mandy howled with laughter. Mickey glared at them both, but Ian could see the smile tugging at his lips.

“You think that’s funny?” Mickey asked his sister, looking at the dildo threateningly.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mandy warned as she backed off, still smirking. “I’ll leave you losers to your weird sex stuff. Don’t start humping each other on the couch.”

She retreated into her bedroom and closed the door behind her and Ian immediately moved to undo the buttons on Mickey's alluring Hawaiian shirt.

“Couch is off limits,” he said into Mickey’s ear. “Bedroom’s not.”

“I wasn’t kidding, I’m not fuckin’ touching that. Bad enough it touched my face, probably gave me pink eye or somethin’, you prick.”

Ian laughed. “We don’t need to use that.”

“I gotta jump in the shower, I’m supposed to meet Iggy and RJ to scout out places for the moving truck thing,” Mickey said, giving Ian an apologetic look before heading into the bathroom.

Ian picked up the dildo from where it had landed on the floor and placed it on the coffee table. He didn’t anticipate finding many more of those, but at least he had a place for them if he did. He turned to the couch and refolded the shirt Mickey had haphazardly discarded.

Mickey was right; most of what he’d found wasn’t worth all that much separately. But collectively it seemed like a decent take. He scanned the room, surveying the small piles that had started to accumulate. It didn’t look like much, but it was a start.

He went back to the table and finished sorting through the suitcase he had been working on when Mickey had arrived. He tried to ignore the fact that Mickey was in the shower, and the pull that he felt toward him. He kept himself busy in an attempt to avoid the temptation, but once the suitcase was empty he couldn’t resist any longer.

Ian crept stealthily into the bathroom, closing the door cautiously behind him. He pulled the shower curtain open just slightly, taking a second to admire Mickey in this state - head back, eyes closed, body lax, letting the water loosen his muscles. Ian smiled to himself before ruining the moment, poking Mickey forcefully in the side.

“The fuck?” Mickey said, eyes flying open as he spun around to see Ian holding the dildo.

“Ian-” he started, but Ian was already taking off his clothes, letting the dildo drop to the tiled floor.

“What are you doin’?” Mickey sighed as he stepped aside to let Ian in, not a hint of protest in his voice.

“Helping,” Ian replied, scratching his fingers through Mickey’s hair as he leaned in to lick the water droplets off his neck.

Mickey quirked a brow. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“That was last night.”

“Yeah well, I’m still feelin’ last night,” Mickey told him with a pointed look.

“Sore?” Ian mocked, lips pulled into a sly grin. “We’re teenagers, we’re supposed to be having sex all the time.”

“Whoever said that wasn’t takin’ it up the ass on the daily. How many rounds we go yesterday?”

“So, what?” Ian asked, fingertips gliding over Mickey’s hardening cock. “You saying you don’t want to?”

Mickey let out a desperate groan and Ian whirled him around, pressing his body against Mickey’s back, pinning him against the wall.

“Alright, make it quick,” Mickey ordered.

“Real romantic,” Ian droned, but worked fast to prep Mickey.

He used the time to admire Mickey as he worked, sliding his free hand over his boyfriend’s body; up his abdomen, along his bicep, down his back, gripping his ass. He almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing until Mickey pressed back into his fingers.

“I’m good,” Mickey breathed. Ian replaced his fingers with his cock and pushed in, focusing on Mickey’s slow exhale.

Mickey reached to rest a hand on the back of Ian’s head, fingers carding through Ian’s hair as Ian leaned in to plant a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Mickey reciprocated by parting his lips, letting Ian in, and Ian met Mickey’s tongue with his own.

They kissed slowly, lazily; it seemed Mickey wasn’t in such a rush anymore, and Ian wasn’t about to remind him. He set a steady pace and brought a hand up to cradle Mickey’s face, pulling their lips closer together. Mickey’s thumb stroked the back of Ian’s neck, sending a chill down his spine. Ian broke away from Mickey’s mouth to kiss along his shoulder and then up his neck, finding his way back to his lips.

Ian sped up the pace slightly as he dug his fingers into Mickey’s hips. He rocked forward and Mickey pushed back, suddenly desperate for more. Ian responded by holding Mickey more firmly, not allowing him to rock back. He pulled out and pushed back in gradually, refusing to go all the way. He heard Mickey let out a low whimper and Ian teased him once more, pulling back.

“Fuck me,” Mickey begged, and Ian obeyed. He pressed in hard, holding the position for a moment before establishing a quick rhythm.

Mickey placed his forearm against the wall to steady himself, panting as Ian continued to push in harder, faster. Ian honed in on Mickey’s breathing, burying his face in Mickey’s neck as he tried to will himself further. He wasn’t close, nowhere near it, and if they carried on like this he knew Mickey would finish in no time.

Ian stopped abruptly when he heard the door swing open, blowing the curtain just enough to make him shiver. He watched as Mickey’s eyes widened at the sound of his sister’s voice.

“Hurry up, asshole,” Mandy said. “I need to shower before I leave for work.”

Mickey looked back at Ian like he could somehow save him from having to answer.

He couldn’t.

Mickey swallowed nervously. “I just got in, give me five fuckin’ minutes.”

They stayed perfectly still, waiting with baited breath for the noises that told them Mandy had exited. But the sounds never came.

“You gonna need the car today?” she asked, rummaging through the bottles on the shelf. Ian heard a cap pop open and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing; she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. “I’m gonna take it if I’m getting groceries. I close so I won’t be home ‘til late.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need it.” Mickey rested his forehead against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Ian heard the sink turn on and assumed Mandy was brushing her teeth. He didn’t have time for this. When he began to move his hips again, Mickey snapped his head back, looking at Ian like he had lost his mind. Ian simply smirked and continued his thrusts, planting one palm flat against the wall for better leverage.

Mickey closed his eyes and bit his lip, and Ian could tell he was struggling to stay silent. He clamped his hand over Mickey’s mouth as he sped up, snapping his hips harder in an attempt to send Mickey over the edge.

He felt Mickey’s teeth sink into his fingers and smiled at his obvious pleasure. Ian reached his hand around to stroke Mickey’s cock, pumping his fist as quietly as he could manage. He felt Mickey’s hand come to rest on his thigh, nails digging in, and Ian knew he was close.

After a few more thrusts Mickey groaned as he came, and Ian’s hand wasn’t enough to muffle the sound.

They both froze, Ian finding it hard to keep still with the adrenaline running through his veins. His hand was still over Mickey’s mouth, and Mickey’s hot heavy breaths were doing nothing to calm Ian down.

Not a sound was being made from the other side of the curtain, and Ian could only assume Mandy had frozen in shock as well.

“Are you both in there?” Mandy finally spoke, her tone dripping with disgust. “Jesus, I don’t need this exhibitionist shit.”

Ian heard the door close behind her and Mickey grabbed his wrist, prying Ian’s hand away from his mouth.

“You happy, asshole?” Mickey spat, his cheeks flushed.

“Not yet,” Ian breathed into Mickey’s neck, working to get to his own climax.

“Shouldn’t even let you finish. You deserve blue balls,” Mickey said, but he braced himself against the wall regardless.

*

Debbie entered the living room to find Carl standing at the door, the hot asshole from the pool clapping him on the back.

“Later, man,” he said to Carl as he walked out. “We’ll see you next weekend.”

“Since when are you so good at making friends?” Debbie asked him suspiciously.

“Since I bring party favors.” Carl dug into his pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag.

Debbie’s mouth fell open. “You’re giving people drugs?”

“It’s just weed,” he assured her as he stuffed it back into his pocket. “And it ain’t free.”

“If Fiona finds out she’ll kill you,” Debbie scolded.

“Then don’t tell her.”

Debbie rolled her eyes, but let Carl off the hook when she saw Matty stumble into the room, downing the last of his beer and tossing his cup onto the floor.

“Hey!” she said as she skipped over to him. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yeah, that beer is- wow. Strong. It’s a lot. The room is spinning so fast.” He grabbed the armrest of the couch to keep himself upright, bumping into someone as he swayed on his feet.

The guy he bumped into turned, overhearing the conversation. “Did you mix it right?” he asked Matty.

Matty squinted. “Mix it?”

Debbie’s eyes widened. “Wait, you didn’t drink it straight, did you?”

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to drink beer?”

“Dude, you gotta mix it!” the guy explained. “Two thirds water, one third beer. Shit, you must be fuckin’ gone.”

Matty stared at him in surprise, then turned to Debbie. “That explains it then. I think I’m-”

“Wasted?” Debbie offered.

“Yeah. I’m gonna sit.”

Debbie sat down next to him, plastered against his side despite the rest of the couch being free. She bit her lip as she tried to ignore her nerves. Her heart was racing and her hands were clammy, but she pushed her lips into his before she could talk herself out of it.

Matty’s eyebrows raised in surprise but he kissed back, slowly and sloppily and Debbie tried not to think too much. She wondered if her tongue was doing the right thing, if her head was tilted the right way, if he had meant to bite her lip. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, which were currently sitting idly in her lap.

Debbie hooked one leg over Matty’s and turned to get a better angle, placing one hand on his leg and sliding it slowly upward.

“Hey, whoa, Debbie,” Matty slurred, pushing her hand off of his thigh. “Debbie, stop.”

Debbie pulled away, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. “Want to go up to my bedroom?”

“No, no.” Matty shook his head and winced. “We should stop.”

Debbie felt her cheeks burn, hurt by Matty’s rejection. “But…don’t you want to?”

“We can’t.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed tightly. Debbie wasn’t sure if he was too disgusted to look at her or if he was trying not to vomit.

The awkward moment was interrupted by the front door swinging open. Fiona barged into the house, looking around wildly at the drunken teenagers.

“A few friends?” she shot at Debbie. “Alright, everybody out! Party’s over.”

Debbie didn’t protest, not wanting to cause a scene. Instead she merely scowled at Fiona, who stood at the foot of the stairs with her arms crossed in front of her, watching sternly as the kids filed out the door. She didn’t notice Carl whispering good luck to Debbie before darting into the kitchen and up the stairs.

Fiona placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room, shaking her head. Debbie remained on the couch, fuming with anger but keeping her lips tightly sealed, waiting for Fiona to speak first. She considered escaping when Fiona disappeared into the kitchen, but she emerged shortly thereafter with a trash bag in her hands.

Fiona turned off the blaring music and sighed as she began to tidy up. “What the hell is going on with you?”

The implication that _she_ had been the one to do something wrong set Debbie off. “What’s going on? I was having a party and you ruined it! You made me look like an idiot. Do you not want me to have friends? Do you want me talking to my dolls for the rest of my life?”

“No, I’d just rather you not having ragers at fourteen!” Exasperated, Fiona stopped cleaning to look at Debbie. “What if I hadn’t come home? You and the pizza kid were sitting awful close.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!” Debbie shouted as she jumped to her feet. “Don’t act like you weren’t already having sex when you were my age.”

“Yeah, and I wish I’d had a big sister tellin’ me not to,” Fiona retorted.

Debbie groaned in frustration. “I’m fourteen, I can make my own decisions.”

“You’re just a kid.”

“Oh, so I’m adult enough to pay the bills and take care of Liam and run the house when you’re out doing drugs or in prison, but _now_ I’m just a kid?” Debbie knew it was a low blow, but her anger had won out.

Fiona’s face grew somber. She sighed heavily, putting the trash bag down and taking a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. Debbie reluctantly sat down, confused by the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

“Do you remember when you were little, maybe like five or so, and you begged me to buy you a bike for your birthday?” Fiona started, her voice gentle. “And Lip was tryin’ to steer you away from it because we could barely afford food and Carl had just broken his arm and we were tryin’ to figure out how we were gonna pay the hospital bills. Lip told you you wouldn’t be able to ride without trainin' wheels. So you borrowed that kid’s bike from down the street and you taught yourself how to ride it. Came home all scraped up with a big fat smile on your face.”

Debbie nodded, but didn’t quite see where Fiona was going. “I kind of remember. What, is that when you realized I was a force to be reckoned with or something?”

Fiona chuckled. “Yeah, that too. But me and Lip were gonna try to get you one. It was all you could talk about. Then a few days later you told me you didn’t want one anymore. You realized why we were sayin’ no. You were _five_ and you already had to worry about money.”

“Fi, we’ve all been worrying about money for forever. Liam will probably find a way to add to the squirrel fund soon.”

“I know. I just wish it wasn’t like that. It reminded me of me when I was little, thinkin’ about how we were gonna survive the winter instead of dreamin’ about bikes. I didn’t want you to have to go through that, too.” She shrugged, and Debbie saw her eyes glisten with tears. “Broke my heart.”

Debbie looked away, staring at her knees instead. She felt guilty for attacking her sister, using her mistakes against her. Fiona looked genuinely upset, like she thought about that bike everyday, wishing she had been able to give that to Debbie. Wishing she had been able to give all of them more. It made Debbie’s stomach clench. Fiona had done so much for them; she never wanted her to think it wasn’t enough.

Fiona sighed, hastily wiping her eyes. “Look, the point is, yeah, a part of me wishes you were still my innocent baby sister, but I know you’ve got to grow up. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen too fast. Yes, I was having sex when I was your age but I wish I hadn’t. Not yet. I want you to be sure you’re ready. I grew up way too fast, Lip too, and I’m just doin’ my best to make sure the rest of you don’t have to.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry,” Debbie admitted. “It’s not like I know a ton of guys who are interested in me.”

“You’re fourteen, Debs. You’ll find plenty of interested guys in your life, just give it time.”

“I’m not even just talking about sex. It’s not like I know a bunch of guys who want to be my boyfriend either.” Debbie frowned, sinking back into the couch cushions. “I’m undesirable.”

“You are not undesirable. Listen, the key to gettin' guys is being confident but not throwin' yourself at them.” Debbie perked up, surprised but eager to hear Fiona offering her advice. “Be brave, talk to them first, flirt with them. Don’t be afraid to ask them out, this is the 21st century. But don’t be too-”

“Desperate?” Debbie guessed, slightly embarrassed by the way she had come on to Matty.

Fiona smiled. “Exactly.”

Debbie nodded sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Fiona reached out to brush a hair away from Debbie’s face before getting up. She turned the music back on and picked up the trash bag, offering it to Debbie.

“Cleaning party?”

Debbie smiled and accepted the bag, holding it open for Fiona as she danced.

*

Sheila held her hand down on the horn as she parked the RV in front of her house.

“Frank!” she called as she stepped onto the sidewalk. “Frank!”

Frank stumbled out of the house, shirt off and a beer in his hand. “What the hell?” he bellowed when he spotted the RV.

Sheila stood tall, pulling her shoulders back as she addressed him. “I called the women who want to buy the house. It’s done, Frank. So you can either come with me or get out of my house.”

Frank continued toward her, his gaze not leaving the RV until he reached Sheila. He tore his eyes away and smiled at her, chuckling.

“I told you,” he said through bared teeth, “we’re not selling the goddamn house.”

“Come with me or get out of my house!” she shouted. Her hands were in fists at her sides, squeezing them tightly to maintain her assertiveness.

“Sheila, Sheila, sweetheart.” Frank caressed her arm, his tone having shifted from angry to faux loving. “We don’t need to travel to get the spark back. We don’t need to leave to reignite the flame. Think about it. This is our home. You don’t really want to let some other yuppie idiots live here. Home is where the heart is! I can’t imagine my life anywhere else.”

“I need change, Frank!” Sheila announced, unswayed by Frank’s words. “I’m sick of that house, I’m sick of this city. I need something different.”

“The difference lies inside,” he said as he put his palm flat against her chest. “We’ve changed, Sheils. Our love has grown. That’s what’s really important.”

“Yes, I’ve changed!” Sheila bounced on her toes, hopeful that Frank would see her point. “I’m not stuck inside my house anymore. And now I need something new and exciting.”

Frank’s face grew angry, and then he laughed maliciously. “You think you’ve changed? You haven’t changed. You’re just a different kind of crazy now.”

Her face fell. “But you just said the difference lies in-”

“What are you going to do when the big open road gets too scary for you, huh?” He threw out his arms animatedly. “There’s murderers out there! And ravage beasts and tornados and dogs shitting on sidewalks!”

Sheila pouted her lips, not understanding. “Frank, what are you-”

“And you’re just going to leave me here?” he interjected, his voice growing louder with each sentence. “With nothing? After all I did for you? God forbid a man get a little good karma in his life! I stayed with you when you wouldn’t leave your goddamn house, I let you shove things up my ass that are too big to enter any human being, including your fucking feet! I put up with your stupid Indian kids, I stayed mum when you stole a baby, and I helped you take care of that little demon spawn. I even forgave you after you left me for that longhaired, horned-up Neanderthal! And after all that, you’re just going to leave me high and dry? What kind of cold, callous, selfish person are you?”

The next thing Sheila knew she was being thrown to the ground by a deafening blast.

She pushed herself up, hands digging painfully into the asphalt, unable to believe what she was seeing. Her house was nothing but a pile of wood on the ground, flames licking at what was left of it. She felt a pang of despair as she realized her home, the home she had raised her daughter in, was gone forever, along with all the memories it held.

But she didn’t let herself dwell. Sheila turned her head away from the scene to see the RV beckoning her. Her new home, ready to take her to the rest of her family.

She stood and brushed off her skirt, giving one last look to the place where her house once stood before glancing down at Frank where he sat speechless on the ground, watching the flames in shock.

“I am choosing to be a part of the world, Frank,” she told him with utter conviction, not waiting for a response.

Sheila clambered into the RV and started the engine, smiling jubilantly as she drove away, leaving Frank and the ruins of her former home in the dust.

*

Mickey pulled the last drag from his cigarette as he sauntered down the sidewalk, the faint orange tip adding a spark of color to the night. He tossed the butt to the side, immediately missing the comfort of holding the Marlboro in his hand, longing for something to keep his jittery fingers occupied.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned it over and over in his hand, a bolt of anxiety coursing through his body. “Fuck it,” he breathed. After much painstaking deliberation, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the person he was looking for, his thumb pressing the call button quickly before he could change his mind.

“Hello?” Lip answered on the third ring.

Mickey could hear the buzz of people in the background, a roar of laughter followed by someone calling for shots.

“Mickey?” Lip prompted, reminding Mickey that he hadn’t actually spoken yet.

He chewed at the side of his mouth. “Talk to me about these symptoms of bipolar or whatever,” he said after a beat.

“Why, did something happen?” Mickey could hear the background noise die down; he figured Lip was making his way out of the bar, expecting Mickey to deliver vital news about Ian.

“No, I just,” he paused, waving his hand in frustration in front of him. “Just want to know what to look for. So I can let you guys know if I notice anything.”

"Like we said,” Lip drawled, unconvinced by Mickey’s explanation, “hypersexuality, fast talking-"

Mickey shook his head. "No, no. I know all that. But you guys said something about mania before."

"Yeah, I mean, that's one of the extremes."

"So what is it?"

"Mania?” Lip sounded confused, like he wasn’t sure what Mickey was asking or what the point of this conversation was at all.

“Yeah, I mean...” Mickey scrubbed a hand over his face, embarrassed at how stupid he sounded. “How can you know?”

He could tell Lip’s patience was wearing thin. “You just watch for the signs, Mickey.”

“There’s gotta be more than bein' horny and fuckin’ talkin' a lot,” Mickey spat, his frustration mounting. “People don’t get put in psych wards and have meds shoved down their throats for bein’ horny and talkin' too much.”

Lip sighed, and Mickey was about to hang up when he offered a new answer.

"When Monica was manic she would go buy us shit with money she didn't have and get excited about things that would never happen. It was like logic wasn't a factor, ya know? She was impulsive and did shit without worrying about the consequences. Which always came, and then we were left to deal with them."

Mickey nodded as he chewed down his fingernail and considered Lip’s words. "So let's say we convince him to go see a doctor. What happens then?"

"What's going on, Mickey?" Lip’s tone was sharp, begging Mickey to get to the point if there was one. He sounded worried more than anything, and Mickey suddenly regretted making the call in the first place.

"Look, you guys were the ones who said he needed a shrink or whatever,” Mickey shrugged, attempting to sound sincere. “I was just thinkin' about it. Whatever, don’t worry about it-"

“No,” Lip interrupted, stopping Mickey before he could end the call. “It’s, uh, a mental health assessment. They'd ask him some questions, observe him, make an official diagnosis."

"He have to stay there?” Mickey asked. He didn’t want there to be any surprises when they went into this. _If_ they went into this. “How do we know they aren't gonna hospitalize him?"

He couldn’t determine if Lip sounded tired or annoyed; probably both. "Unless he seems dangerous they can't hospitalize him without his consent. Cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess."

Nodding to himself, Mickey remained silent until Lip spoke again.

"This isn’t just your problem, Mickey. You don’t get to keep shit from us. We should know if something’s going on. Is he okay? Really?"

As Mickey rounded the corner, he spotted the van still parked in front of his house, the back door hanging open like someone had recently been inside it.

"He's fine,” Mickey answered, convincing himself it wasn’t a lie. “I'll talk to you later."

"You gonna talk to him about seeing a doctor?" Lip asked insistently.

"I don't know,” Mickey responded, talking quietly as he approached the van. “I gotta go."

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and came to a stop on the sidewalk in front of his house, his brow furrowing at the sight before him. He watched as Ian stepped down from the back of the van, struggling to balance four suitcases in his hands.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Got more luggage,” Ian grunted. He trudged up the stairs, heaving the suitcases onto the landing when he reached the top step.

Mickey walked slowly as he tried to make sense of whatever this was. He stared up at Ian from the bottom of the steps. “Wait, you went back to the airport?”

“Yeah, why not?” Ian retorted, the words coming out in a speedy string.

Mickey’s eyes widened in disbelief at Ian’s stupidity. “It’s fuckin’ risky is why not. Most of this ain’t worth shit anyway; you gonna take the time to sell each shirt for a quarter a pop?”

Ian gave no indication that he had heard a word Mickey said. He lifted the suitcases again and crossed the porch, making his way inside.

“You listenin’ to me?” Mickey shouted at Ian’s back as he followed him into the house. “There’s better ways to make money, man. What are you doing?”

He took the steps two at a time, attempting to keep up with Ian, nowhere near done with the conversation. Mickey was about to ask him where the fire was when he was stunned into silence as he stepped foot in the living room. Every surface was covered by shoes or clothes or suitcases. Tabletops were no longer visible. Luggage was stacked against the walls.

Mickey watched wide-eyed and mouth agape as Ian grabbed a shoe from atop a pile of shirts.

“What is this doing here?” Ian said to no one in particular, as far as Mickey could tell. “Does it look like it belongs here? Gotta keep this organized, gotta make sure everything is in the right spot.” He marched down the hallway, disappearing into the bedroom.

“He’s been like this since he got home,” Svetlana announced from the small place she had cleared for herself on the couch. “Organizing. Telling me to put shoes over here and jewelry over there. Is not normal.”

Mickey let out a slow, shaky breath, taking in his surroundings and fighting the tears that stung his eyes. No, this definitely was not normal.

“Mickey, come on,” Ian pleaded, sticking his head out from their bedroom. “Help me make sure everything’s in the right place.”

Mickey nodded, struggling to find his voice. He took a moment to collect himself before heading into the bedroom to find Ian staring into a suitcase, practically buzzing with energy.

“Alright, man,” Mickey croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What do we got goin’ here?”

“Okay, so Mandy’s room has all the healthcare and beauty shit,” Ian explained, oblivious to Mickey’s distress. “Soap, shampoo, makeup, hair crap, lotion, stuff like that. The clothes are all out in the living room. Our room has all the meds, and all the stuff that hasn’t been sorted yet…”

Mickey listened as Ian babbled on, nodding in all the right places and raising his eyebrows in acknowledgement when Ian looked at him expectantly. He swallowed against the hard lump in his throat, trying to keep his composure as he sat cross-legged next to Ian on the floor of their bedroom. They began sifting through the numerous pieces of luggage in front of them. Ian continued to talk and Mickey found it harder and harder to listen, the fear in his chest growing rapidly.

Mickey held up an expensive watch and Ian beamed, jabbering excitedly. Mickey returned the cheerful expression and Ian didn’t notice when the smile didn’t reach his eyes.


	4. One Little Word At A Time

Mickey stared down at Ian, still passed out after an especially late night at the club, his long limbs sprawled across their bed. He rubbed a thumb over his lip as he contemplated what he needed to do today, eyes traveling over the smooth lines of Ian's body and the relaxed contentment on his face.

He startled when Yevgeny let out a loud cry from the living room, watching as Ian stirred awake at the sound. Ian rubbed a hand over his eyes as he sat up, smiling when he saw Mickey standing at the end of the bed. He crooked his finger invitingly, gaze growing heated as he looked him up and down with clear intent.

Mickey’s feet started to move of their own volition, his defenses against Ian practically nonexistent these days. But he caught himself, stepping back and bringing his arms up to wrap across his chest like a shield. "I need to talk to you."

Ian raised a brow, leaning back against the headboard. "Sounds serious."

Mickey swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat. "Might be."

"I just woke up," Ian replied slowly, scooting down the bed towards him. "And I haven't even touched you yet. Can't it wait?"

Mickey shook his head and took another step back to stay out of his reach, bumping into a box full of loose pills that Ian had left in front of the dresser. "No, I-"

"You watch baby today," Svetlana burst in, pushing the partially closed door open wide and stepping into their room, Yevgeny splayed over her shoulder. She patted his back lightly while she pinned Mickey with a meaningful look, the floppy hat perched on her head ruining the stern effect she was aiming for.

"The fuck are you wearing?" Mickey asked, ignoring her comment about the kid.

"Is fancy hat from shit piles." She pulled Yevgeny away from her shoulder and let him grab at the rim of the hat with his tiny hands, smiling when his mouth dropped open in delight. "Yevgeny likes it."

"Don't touch that stuff," Ian barked, body tensing and the languid attitude of just a moment ago deserting him as he eyed the hat irritably. "I have it all organized, you're gonna mess up my system."

Svetlana regarded him silently, biting her lip in a clear attempt to hold herself back from snapping in response. After a beat, her face relaxed and her eyes softened, the look she was giving Ian full of sadness and pity.

"Is okay,” she reassured him, using what passed for a gentle tone in her usually harsh accent. “I remember where it goes, I will put it back where I found."

Mickey sighed in relief when Ian visibly calmed, nodding in acknowledgment and reaching out for the baby. He pulled him into his lap, making an exaggerated goofy face and laughing when Yevgeny started kicking his legs in excitement. "You like the hat, huh buddy? We've got lots of 'em, you can play with them until they're sold, okay? Just don't eat them, we don’t know where those things have been."

Looking back over at Svetlana, Mickey found her watching Ian and Yevgeny, a new hint of trepidation on her face. After a few moments, she shook her head and tore her eyes away from them to speak to Mickey again.

"You will watch him today," she repeated, returning to her original purpose. "I have lunch date."

Mickey shook his head. "No can do. Ian's workin' day shift, and I'm scouting the next mark for the moving truck scam. You'll just have to take him on your date."

Svetlana’s softer countenance disappeared abruptly, replaced with an exasperated scowl. "How am I to meet someone if I always have baby on hip? You must ease new partners into baby, not shove in face."

"I thought all you lesbos loved babies," Mickey said, gesturing at Yevgeny where he was sitting happily in Ian's lap, biting his own fist. "And he's a fuckin' cute one, too, far as I can tell. Would think he'd help your chances."

Svetlana settled her hands on her hips, challenging him with a look as she prepared to fight it out. "You just do not want to be alone with him. You think I do not notice you only take him when Orange Boy is here? Yevgeny will think  _he_  is father, not you."

Mickey shook his head, turning away from her to search the dresser for his lighter and smokes. He had enough on his mind today without adding this bullshit with the kid to the pile. He turned back, lit cigarette between his lips, to see Ian watching him with a sad, sympathetic smile.

"Whatever, I can't take him today. I need to go scope out a couple prospective clients, and it's gonna look pretty fucking weird if I got a kid strapped to my chest."

"I don't know about that," Mandy interjected, stepping into the doorway and brandishing a flyer at him. "Might need to cool it with the moving truck for awhile."

Mickey snatched it from her hand, staring in disbelief at a Wanted poster featuring a sketch of someone who looked vaguely familiar.

“The fuck’s this?”

“Looks like you to me.” Mandy shrugged, sitting next to Ian on the bed and sliding her hand over to play with Yevgeny’s toes. “Iggy said he found one taped to the bulletin board at the store, and I saw this one on that big post on the corner on my way home this morning. Think we’re made.”

“Shit.” Mickey took another deep drag from his cigarette, handing over the paper when Ian reached out to grab it.

“Doesn’t even look like you,” Ian said lightly. “They got the eyebrows all wrong.”

Mickey exhaled a puff of smoke, flipping him off as Mandy snorted with laughter.

Ian lifted his hands. “I’m just sayin’. No one’s gonna be busting down our door.”

“Maybe not,” Mickey agreed, grabbing the flyer back to examine it again. “But now there’s too much heat to do another job. Gonna need to lay low.”

"So you are free today!" Svetlana crowed triumphantly.

"Would you give it a fuckin' rest," Mickey snapped, running a hand over his hair in frustration. "I'm gonna have to work on somethin' else, we don't got much money comin' in since the rub ‘n tug shut down."

Svetlana huffed out a breath, taking Yevgeny back from Ian. "Fine, I will reschedule date. But you will have to start helping some time."

Mickey watched her leave, then turned back to Ian and Mandy as he tried to come up with a new plan.

“We could try stealing more suitcases,” Ian suggested.

“We got  _more_  than enough of those.” Mickey took a final puff, stabbing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray on the dresser. “House is already full of shit we’ll never sell, Ian.”

“I’m bringing in okay money,” Mandy offered, running a hand through her hair and twisting the ends through her fingers. “Been pullin’ doubles since I got nothing better to do.”

“Your job barely covers the utilities for the house,” Mickey said in exasperation. “We need some real bank, not minimum wage and piddly tips from truckers and pros.”

Mandy scowled, standing to shove past him. “Fuck you, then, I’ll just keep my piddly tips for myself. Asshole.”

“Mandy, wait,” Ian called, turning to Mickey with a look of censure when she kept walking. “You could be a little nicer, you know she’s been pissy since Kenyatta went away.”

Mickey shrugged and pushed the door closed behind her, scrubbing a hand over his face as he went through his options in his head. He opened his eyes to find Ian sitting on the side of their bed, watching him with brows pinched together in worry.

"So what are we gonna do for money?"

"I don't know," Mickey sighed, stepping over to stand between his legs. He reached a hand out to stroke over Ian's hair, still lost in thought. "But I'll figure it out."

"I can help," Ian reminded him, rubbing his hands up and down the backs of his thighs. "I have lots of ideas, Mick. Some of them are gonna pan out, and then we'll be set."

Mickey winced, the mention of Ian’s many ideas returning his thoughts to his mission. He looked down as Ian pressed his face to his stomach, hitching his worn tank top up to press a line of kisses above the waistband of his boxers.

"Still wanna talk to you," Mickey reminded him quietly.

Ian skimmed his face up Mickey's torso and attached his mouth to his neck, sucking and biting gently as he moved his hand around to the front of his thigh. "So talk.”

“Kind of hard when you keep doing this shit,” he breathed, trying to keep his mind focused and fighting the urge to get swept up in Ian’s attentions.

“Yeah,” Ian chuckled, hot breath ghosting over Mickey’s stomach as he rubbed his hand against him through the thin fabric. “It is kind of hard.”

Mickey grinned, threading his fingers through Ian's fiery hair and tugging lightly to pull him up to face him. He looked into his eyes, smile softening into something warmer, feeling his resolve weaken as Ian reached his hand inside his boxers and began stroking him firmly.

“Come on,” Ian whispered, stretching up until his mouth was resting lightly against Mickey’s, every word breathed directly onto his lips. “You need to relax.”

Mickey leaned into him, snaking his tongue out to lick at Ian’s lips and groaning when his hand tightened around him in response. Ian returned the kiss, delving inside his mouth for a hot moment before he slid back down, pushing Mickey’s boxers the rest of the way off and dropping to his knees.

Conversation completely forgotten, Mickey moaned when he felt the wet heat of Ian’s mouth surrounding his cock, grabbing the back of his neck to encourage him to continue. He let out a blissful sigh, the only word left in his mind escaping his lips on a moan.

“Ian.”

*  
Fiona ran her index finger down the newspaper column, growing increasingly frustrated with each item she had to pass up. She turned to scan down the listings on her phone screen, finding nothing different there.

"Not qualified, not qualified, oh hey-shit, not qualified." Scratching at her neck in irritation, Fiona flung the paper away, turning back to the scrambled eggs that were cooking on low heat on the stovetop. Seeing that they were ready, she turned off the burner and grabbed the spatula to transfer them to a plate.

"Problems?" Lip asked from his place next to Liam at the table, setting his phone down to give her his full attention.

"Apparently you need a college degree for even the shit jobs now," Fiona lamented, walking over to set the eggs in the center of the table. "Give Liam some, wouldya?"

Lip reached over to scoop up some eggs, depositing them on Liam's plate and running a hand over his back. "That enough, bud?"

"Mmhmm," he muttered, eyes focused on the action figure next to his plate. He picked it up, rolling it over to sit beside the eggs. "How 'bout some for Mater?"

Lip chuckled. "Why don't you just give him a bite of yours, huh?"

Liam shrugged good-naturedly, preparing a bite of eggs on his fork and holding it up to the toy truck’s mouth. Fiona and Lip watched in amusement as he started up a whispered conversation with his toy.

Lip eventually turned back to their conversation. "So you can't find anything decent? You try Craigslist and all that too?”

Fiona nodded. “I’ve tried everything, but apparently no one wants a spunky girl with a GED anymore, let alone one with a record. They all want the smarty-pants college types like you.”

Lip’s eyes slid away from her, uncomfortable with the reminder that they were different now. “Thought you liked the diner, anyway."

"I do," Fiona agreed, grabbing the Sunny D pitcher from the fridge and setting it out on the table. "Not bringing in enough, though."

"Slinging pie not the big racket we thought it was?"

Fiona laughed, flicking a napkin at him. "Not quite. I'm hopin' to pick something up for my down time. Hey, you think Tommy needs someone to haul rocks in the dead of night? What I lack in physical strength I make up for in moxie and a can-do attitude. And I look damn cute in a hard hat."

Lip smiled at her affectionately. "Don't doubt it. But Tommy's way too much of a misogynist to hire a girl for a construction gig. It's a total sausage fest over there."

Fiona slumped over the counter, sighing in faux defeat. "There go my dreams. Figured it was a long shot."

Lip winced as she carried on, the guilt apparent in his expression. "I can chip in, Fi. I don't need to keep everything I'm making from the construction gig just for myself."

Fiona shook her head forcefully. "No way. You need money to get through the school year, books and meals and all that. I thought about it, and I'm not takin' a cent."

"Fi, come on-"

"Nope," she said with finality. "I got it, okay? It's my responsibility."

Lip rubbed his hands through his hair in agitation. "Not just yours."

Fiona shrugged, grabbing the last of the toast and her coffee mug and coming to sit across from him at the table. "You can start chippin' in more when you finish your degree and you're rakin' in the dough. Can set us up real nice, and I'll be happy for the relief. But until then, school’s your responsibility, and you don't need to worry about us. We'll get by, always do."

Lip sighed heavily, dropping the subject and reaching for his mug to take another long swallow of coffee. He glanced at the clock over the stove. "Where are the walking hormone bombs? Aren't they usually stomping around by now?"

Fiona furrowed her brow, looking up the stairs and listening hard to the suspicious silence. "Good question. Kids! Breakfast!"

After a few moments, she detected the sound of furious whispering, followed by footsteps descending the stairs.

Carl stepped into the kitchen first, plopping down next to Lip and reaching for a plate, digging into his breakfast enthusiastically before glancing at Fiona and speaking with his mouth full. “We might need to start locking the van again.”

“Why?” Fiona asked, puzzled by the non sequitur.

“Pretty sure Frank’s been sleeping in there. Saw a light coming from inside when I came home last night, and there were a couple empty bottles on the ground near the sliding door.”

Fiona groaned, tugging on her ponytail in irritation. “Should have expected that, I guess. Better than him bein’ in the house.”

Lip shook his head. “I’m happy for Sheila that she got out of here, but I can’t say I’m glad to be stuck with that degenerate again.”

“Oh no we’re not,” Fiona denied, waving her fork in objection. “We’re on high Frank alert around here, okay? Keep an eye out for disappearing food, and make sure all your money’s hidden.”

Debbie finally made an appearance a moment later, floating quietly down the stairs. Her eyes were damp and there was a flush staining her cheeks.

"What's wrong, Debs?"

“Nothing.” She swept past the kitchen table and flopped down on the couch in the living room, pushing her face into the lumpy old pillow wedged in the corner.

Fiona squinted after her in worry, rising so she could see her. “Don’t you want breakfast?”

She shook her head aggressively, pulling a second pillow over the top of her head and folding it down to cover her ears.

“Debbie’s sad?” Liam piped up, standing on his chair to try to peer around Fiona and into the living room. He turned to Lip, showing him his toy with a serious expression. “Me and Mater can cheer her up.”

Lip smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “She’ll be alright, buddy. Finish your breakfast first, okay?”

Fiona looked to Carl with a quizzical expression as Liam sat back down, sure he knew what was going on.

“Kids have been posting shit about her on Facebook,” Carl explained. “Instagram, too. Everybody knows she tried to get with Matty at the party the other night, and he turned her down.”

“She tried to what?” Lip asked, straightening and giving Carl his attention.

Carl shrugged, taking another large bite of his eggs before answering. “Think she’s sick of being a virgin.”

Lip raised a brow. “She’s only fourteen, what’s the rush?”

Carl shot him a skeptical look. “Like you weren’t scoring when you were fourteen? You used to sneak out to bang neighborhood girls all the time, I always heard you tell Ian.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” Carl asked, disbelief and genuine curiosity warring in his expression.

Lip shrugged. “Just is. Fiona, you know about this?”

“Yeah, I’m on it,” Fiona sighed, thinking for a moment before grabbing another mug and fixing up a cup of coffee with just a little bit of milk, no sugar. “How bad is it, Carl?”

“Holly’s gunning for her.” Carl poured a large glass of Sunny D and drank half in one long swallow, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth before continuing. “She’s being a huge bitch-making fun of Debbie for not losing her V card yet and making stuff up about her and Matty. Had to take care of a couple of guys who were talking shit yesterday.”

“Take care of, how?” Lip asked suspiciously. “Not fighting again, right? Thought you were gonna cool it with that, keep from getting suspended again.”

Carl waved him off. “School’s not even back yet, they can’t suspend me for what I do in the summer. Besides, they were saying she’s so gross she can’t even get Matty to do her when he’s wasted, I can’t just let that slide.”

Fiona shared a pained wince with Lip before heading for the living room. She took a seat next to Debbie’s prone form, rubbing a soothing hand over her back.

“Brought you some coffee.”

Debbie didn’t respond, shifting just enough to press deeper into the pillow.

“Come on, Debs,” she cajoled, tugging on the top pillow until it came loose. “Made it just the way you like it.”

Debbie huffed, sitting up and brushing her hair back from her face. She grabbed the mug from Fiona, taking a sip before meeting her eyes and speaking firmly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You sure?” Fiona sat back against the couch, coming to rest close beside her with their shoulders pressed together.

Debbie leaned into her, resting her head lightly against Fiona’s shoulder as she settled the mug in her lap, wrapping both hands around it. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Fiona reached a hand over to stroke through her hair, sitting quietly beside her until her attention was caught by Carl walking quickly toward the front door.

“Where you going?”

“Work,” Carl replied, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his backpack from its resting place by the stairs.

Fiona’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “This early? Thought you were working evening shifts.”

Carl smiled at her proudly. “They gave me some extra time, said I’ve been doing a great job and I got potential.”

“Yeah?” Fiona smiled back at him, glad to hear that something was going right for one of her kids.

“Yep, my boss thinks I have the enter-. The entra-. What is it again, Debs?”

Debbie rolled her eyes. “The entrepreneurial spirit.”

Fiona raised her brows. “Aren’t you workin' as a stockboy? What, you been giving him business ideas?”

Debbie groaned beside her. “Oh come on, he’s not-”

“Gotta go,” Carl said quickly, tugging on Debbie’s hair and grinning at her outraged yelp. “See ya later.”

Fiona watched him leave, feeling like she was missing something. Turning back to Debbie, she found her staring into her coffee mug. “How many secrets do you two got, huh?”

Debbie shrugged, biting her lip as if she was contemplating something. Eventually, she sighed and stood up from the couch. “I’m hungry, we have any breakfast left?”

Fiona nodded, gesturing for her to head into the kitchen and getting up to follow. She opened her mouth to press Debbie further, but got distracted by Lip brushing past her.

“You leaving, too? Thought you had the day off.”

Lip nodded, bending over to grab his shoes from the landing. “I do, I’m going up to the North Side to hang with Amanda.”

“Isn't she in Miami?”

“Got back last night.” Lip smiled. “She’s sending a car to get me, should be here any second. Guess she missed me.”

Fiona raised her eyebrows. “Sounds kind of serious. Buying you a fancy watch, sending cars to take you to her swanky house. You sure you two aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Lip shrugged, brushing the curtain aside to peer out the window. “There’s my ride. Be back tonight.”

Fiona shook her head as she watched him go, heading back to the kitchen to assess the damage from breakfast. Just catching sight of Debbie disappearing upstairs, she found Liam playing quietly with his toys amongst the discarded food scraps and dirty dishes on the table.

Liam looked up when she entered, gesturing around the room and shaking his head. “What a mess.”

Fiona laughed, running a hand over her hair. “If only all my kids were as neat as you, huh?” Sighing deeply and cracking her neck, Fiona got started on the clean up.

*  
Kevin bent over the playpen, rubbing his hand over Amy and Gemma's bellies in turn, testing to see if they were really asleep. He snatched his hair back in irritation when it fell forward and tickled over Amy's face, staying in place an extra beat to make sure it hadn't woken her.

"Think they're finally out, babe."

"Hallelujah," Veronica muttered into her arms, raising her head just enough from where she was slumped over the kitchen table to meet his eyes. "Think I have time for a shower? I feel disgusting."

Kevin winced in sympathy as he looked her over, noting the deep circles under her eyes and the downward turn of her mouth. The intense sleep deprivation of the last few nights was taking an obvious toll on her, leaving her drained and irritable. "Yeah, of course. Go pamper yourself, I'll hang down here in case they need anything."

Veronica nodded, standing slowly and shuffling over to the stairs. Kevin watched her until she disappeared from the top landing, casting one last glance back at the twins before he poured himself a cup of coffee and settled at the table, booting up their ancient laptop.

Clicking on the top page in his bookmarks, Kevin smiled as the forums loaded, scanning the recent topics of discussion between the moms before checking his notifications. He'd received dozens of replies to the topic he started, and he sighed gratefully as he started scanning through the answers.

"Postpartum depression," he muttered, trying out the words on his tongue. He frowned, unhappy with the way it sounded and what it could mean for Veronica. Pushing aside his discomfort, he continued reading through the examples of symptoms his friends had provided, finding himself nodding along reluctantly as he checked them off a list in his head.

Opening a new tab, Kevin began a search to read up more on the topic. He was moving slowly through an article about recognizing the signs of PPD when he heard Veronica coming down the stairs. He closed out the tab quickly and returned to the regular forums, eyes lighting on a discussion about how different foods could change the color of your baby's poop.

"Vee, this is wild," he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder. "We can change their poop just by giving them different vegetables!"

"Kev, I don't want to talk about baby shit with you right now. I have something else in mind."

Surprised at the husky tone of her voice, Kevin turned to see Veronica standing in front of the stairwell, dressed in nothing but a pair of heels and an open robe.

Kevin swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry and his body responding to the visual. "What are you doing?"

Veronica sauntered over, yanking his chair around and settling over his legs. "I'm trying to get laid. You wanna help me out?"

Kevin responded automatically when she pressed forward to connect their lips, sinking into the familiar feeling of Veronica on top of him, moving against him. He moaned when she tugged aggressively on his hair, bringing his arms up to wrap around her. Getting lost in it for a moment, he came back to himself when he heard one of the girls whimpering in her sleep.

Breaking away from Veronica, he looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alright. "Wait, wait. Baby, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Veronica leaned back, raising a brow in question. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"The girls are right there, and you need your rest," Kevin reminded her, stroking a hand over her cheek and smiling at her gently. "I know you're worn out and stressed. Why don't you go take a nap instead?"

"You're turning me down." Veronica's voice was flat, affectless as she stood. She stepped back from him and yanked her robe closed, tying the belt tightly.

Kevin's eyes widened at the obvious hurt in her expression. "No! Of course not, I just want you to feel better. I know the girls have been a handful the last few days."

"Sex makes me feel better," Veronica said, voice sharpening and rising in volume. "Sex relieves my stress. Sex helps me sleep. And you won't give me any sex! It’s been weeks of this, Kev."

Kevin's mouth tightened as he looked over at the girls, gratified to see they were still sleeping undisturbed. "Would you keep your voice down?"

Veronica's eyes narrowed, hands coming to rest on her hips. "Now you're trying to reprimand me like a child?"

"No, I'm-" Kevin took a deep breath, attempting to center himself. "I just don't want to wake the girls. And I don't think you should be talking like that in front of them. You're a mom now, you gotta act like it."

He knew he'd fucked up again when he saw the fire building in her eyes, the way her mouth twisted in anger. "And how is a mom supposed to act, Kev? You want me to cover up head to toe, pretend I don't need sex or time away or anything for myself? Or just sit around with my tits out, letting the twins take turns sucking the life out of me?"

"No, I didn't mean that," Kevin whispered loudly, still trying to keep it down in the hopes that they wouldn't wake the babies. “But now that you mention it, I really think you deciding not to breastfeed is contributing to your trouble bonding-”

“You finish that sentence, and I will smack the shit out of you.” Veronica’s glare was so intense that Kevin leaned back in his chair in an attempt to escape it.

He sighed, tugging on the ends of his hair in frustration. "Look, I’m sorry I keep bringing it up. It's just, this isn't normal, Vee. I think you're sick."

Veronica watched him silently, taking a deep breath before speaking in a low, dangerous tone. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Look, I asked a few of my friends on the forums, okay? And they said it sounds like you have depression. Like, the postpartum kind."

“Depression?” Veronica shook her head incredulously. “I’m not depressed, I’m just sick to death of you hassling me about this shit.”

“I don’t know, Vee, a lot of what’s been going on with you fits the symptoms. I told them about a few things and they said-”

"You bitched to some random internet moms about me? " Veronica looked at him like she didn't know him, like he had betrayed her. Kevin watched as her eyes started to water, feeling helpless to stop it and wondering how this conversation went so wrong.

"What'd you tell them, that I'm defective? A bad mom? Care more about getting laid and getting out than I do about my babies?"

Kevin shook his head swiftly, standing to get closer and reaching a hand out to stroke over her arm. "It wasn't like that, Vee. I just want to help you."

She wrenched away from his touch. "Maybe I don't need your help. Maybe I'm not the one who's fucking up, did you think of that?"

Kevin just watched her silently, at a loss. She stared back at him intensely, like she was waiting for something from him, but he didn't know what. He heard one of the girls start to cry, and turned away from her to check on them.

Veronica let out a low chuckle behind him, but he couldn’t detect any humor in her tone. He turned to see her heading back upstairs, throwing one last disappointed look over her shoulder.

“I’m getting dressed and going to the Alibi. You have fun with your mommy friends.”

*  
Lip stepped out of the car and looked up at Amanda’s massive house, mouth dropping open a bit as he took in the sight of the place and the view of Lake Michigan peeking out from behind it. Pushing away his sudden anxiety, he leaned back into the car to wave goodbye to the driver.

"Thanks, man. Hope everything works out for your son."

He smiled, tipping his hat to Lip in the rearview mirror. "You bet. I'll pass along the advice."

Lip nodded in acknowledgement and straightened to find Amanda watching him, clearly amused. "Have fun with Raul?"

Lip raised a brow, stepping away from the car as it pulled forward, heading back out of the circular driveway. "Sure, he's a cool guy. His kid's trying for a scholarship at U of C, gave him a few pointers for the applications."

"Didn't your ex girlfriend write all your applications for you?" Amanda asked skeptically, thoroughly unimpressed.

Lip’s smile was sheepish as he nodded. Brushing away his discomfort at the mention of Mandy, he stepped closer to Amanda, picking up the scent of her perfume. "Yeah. But she used all my essays, so I know what she sent in and why I landed my full ride."

Amanda shook her head, surveying him closely. "It's weird seeing you here. Like I cut you out of a picture and pasted you into this background."

"It's weird being here," Lip admitted, glancing around the well-tended grounds uncomfortably, noting the manicured lawn and artfully sculpted bushes. "Kind of glad I am, though."

Amanda stepped closer, reaching out a hand to tangle in the buttons of his shirt. "Oh? And why is that?"

Lip smirked, running a hand through her hair before grabbing her face with both hands, hauling her in for an enthusiastic kiss that knocked her glasses askew. He sighed into her as she wrapped her arms around his middle, glad to have this back.

Amanda smiled shyly when they broke apart, resettling her glasses and grasping his hand. She tugged him forward, heading towards the path that wound around the side of the house. "Come on, I'll give you the tour."

Lip followed obediently as she towed him around the grounds, leading him through the front and back yards, showing off the landscaping, the dock by the lake and the underground pool. By the time they stepped into the house, Lip was fighting to keep his expression neutral, overwhelmed by the opulence of the place.

“This is the main living room, and the kitchen is through there,” Amanda continued, gesturing toward a big room down the hall that was all gleaming stainless steel and white tiles. “Bedrooms and maid’s quarters are upstairs, guest bathroom is off this hallway, and the den and my dad’s office are through here.”

Lip looked around as she pointed out each room, taking in the expensive decor and extreme tidiness. It almost looked like one of those model homes, as if no one actually lived here. “It’s nice, if you like this kind of thing.”

“It’s more lived in upstairs,” Amanda said, eyeing him shrewdly and reading his mind in that eerie way she had. “We try to keep the downstairs pristine for visitors.”

“You wanna show me this cozy upstairs?” Lip asked, reaching out to run a hand over hers, threading their fingers together loosely. “Wouldn’t mind seeing your room. Your family’s gone, right?”

Amanda nodded, grasping his hand in hers and starting back towards the stairs at the front of the house. “The twins are out playing squash, and my parents are cheering them on. Thank god, they’re all driving me insane. Family vacation is way too much togetherness.”

Lip raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“I mean, my little sisters are cute, but they know it, so you kind of want to drown them,” Amanda explained nonchalantly. “And my older sister’s a programmed robot, would jump off a building if my parents told her to.”

Lip smiled, tugging on her hand to pull her around. “Not a rebel like you?”

Amanda snorted, adjusting her glasses endearingly and smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flip. “Definitely not. She does everything my parents ask, my dad eats it up.”

“How is your dad?” Lip asked. “He know I’m still around? Must want his money back.”

Amanda shrugged, wrapping her arms around his neck and speaking quietly into the space between their mouths. “He can afford the loss. Too bad for him, I’ve decided I want to keep you.”

Lip pressed tighter against her, ignoring the slight bit of panic he felt at the possessive statement and sliding his mouth against hers. He groaned loudly when Amanda slipped her tongue past his lips and started tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“You wanna take this upstairs?”

“No.” Amanda took him off guard when she pushed hard against his chest, sending him sprawling over the stairs and stepping up to straddle him, reaching down to begin undoing his pants. “I want to do it right here in my parents’ foyer, where anyone could walk in the front door and see.”

Marveling at her nerve, Lip reached for the waistband of her shorts, pulling the zipper down and sliding his hands around to palm at her ass. “Sometimes I don’t think you’re real.”

“Oh, believe me, she’s very real,” a dry voice cut in from behind Amanda, causing Lip to stiffen and pull his hands away from her. He reached for the edges of his pants, pulling them together as he peered around her legs and saw her parents, little sisters, and two unfamiliar women standing in the doorway. Amanda’s dad shook his head and averted his eyes as they scrambled to rearrange their clothes. “Her extreme realness has been causing me headaches for years.”

“Hey, Dad,” Amanda said brightly, tucking her shirt back into her shorts. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Sure you didn’t,” her mother interjected, rolling her eyes. “Girls, go get changed. Looks like we’re having a guest for lunch. Phillip, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lip replied, nodding in greeting and shuffling to the side when Amanda’s sisters ran past him for the stairs, the two silent women following behind them. “Well, Lip, actually. It’s, uh, nice to see you again Mrs.-”

“Just call me Cheryl.” She waved her hand casually, gesturing to her husband. “And you can call him Jason.”

Lip nodded, jumping a little when Amanda grabbed his hand. He almost pulled away, nervous about touching her in front of her parents, but he held steady, relaxing into the soothing motion of her thumb stroking against his.

“Okay, will do. Uh, thanks for having me, you have a beautiful home.”

Jason squinted at him in suspicion. “See some things you like? We have a state of the art security system, you know.”

“Dad,” Amanda snapped. “Don’t be a bougie asshole. Lip isn’t a criminal.”

“You still have my ten grand. Planning to return it, right?” Jason continued, expression turning smug at Lip’s wince. “Since you’re not a criminal and all. Let’s just call it four percent interest, you can start making those payments anytime you want.”

“That’s enough, Jason,” Cheryl reprimanded, turning to Lip and gesturing for him to proceed her down the hall toward the sun deck. “Let’s go sit, have a drink until lunch is ready. It’s a beautiful day.”

Lip followed her directive, leaning in to whisper in Amanda’s ear as they walked. “Who’s making lunch?”

“The cook,” Amanda said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, sure. And who were those ladies with your sisters?”

“The nannies.”

Lip squinted at her, confused. “They each get their own?”

Amanda smiled, amused by his consternation. “You’ll get used to it.”

Lip shook his head doubtfully as he and Amanda took a seat at the wrought iron table near the pool. He accepted a glass of seltzer when Cheryl offered, taking a large swallow to cover his anxiety.

Jason sat down across from him, not bothering to hide his close scrutiny. “So, Lip, what are you studying?”

“Um, engineering,” Lip replied, pausing to think it over. “Or maybe microrobotics, haven’t decided on my major yet.”

Cheryl smiled at him in delight, turning to her husband with one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Didn’t see that coming, did ya?”

“Dad’s an engineer,” Amanda explained, patting Lip’s knee as she sipped her drink. “He invented a line of water free urinals.”

“I didn’t invent the urinals,” Jason clarified shortly. “I worked on a sealant cartridge and gasket.”

Lip nodded, intellectual curiosity piqued. “That’s cool. What are you working on now?”

“Packing materials.” Jason eyed him warily for a moment, before giving in and offering more details. “I filed a patent for a biodegradable alternative to styrofoam. I use a type of fungi to make it.”

“Smells like moldy mushrooms,” Amanda muttered under her breath.

“It’s actually kind of interesting,” Jason continued, voice becoming more enthusiastic as he discussed his work. “You take any kind of substrate, and you inject it with mycelium-”

Lip’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh, and then you just pour it around the object that you’re packing, and it hardens?”

A small smile formed on Jason’s lips. “That’s right. It becomes a mold of the object.”

Lip nodded thoughtfully, blinking in surprise when he saw Cheryl grinning at him from across the table. He turned to Amanda, finding her watching him with a mix of affection and exasperation.

“If you want, I can show you my workshop after lunch,” Jason offered, pointing toward another small building to the side of the house. “There are a few things in there you might find interesting.”

“Yeah.” Lip smiled, glancing around the property again, feeling some of his unease slip away as he took in the feel of the light breeze and the way the sunlight hit the water on the surface of the pool. It was kind of nice, how it refracted out and lit up everything around them, maybe even him. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

*  
Kevin took a seat on a park bench, pulling the stroller close and reaching in to stroke a hand over Gemma’s head, attempting to soothe her before she woke Amy from her nap. Unbuckling her from her seat, he pulled her onto his lap, muttering nonsense words and running a comforting hand up and down her back. Once he had her settled, he grabbed the diaper bag, retrieving a bottle of formula, uncapping it and pressing the nipple to her lips.

“I know, baby,” Kevin said cajolingly. “Come on, you’re hungry, just take it.”

Smiling when she accepted the bottle, Kevin relaxed into the bench and the feel of the late afternoon sun on his face. He took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to wander, surprised to see Svetlana a few feet away, her son pulled close to her chest. Peering closer, he realized she was breastfeeding.

“Can I help you?” she asked, catching him staring and eyeing him closely, readjusting so she was more fully covered by her blanket.

Kevin blanched. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking at your boobs that way.” He shook his head in response to her incredulous look. “I mean, they’re good boobs. It’s just, I wish my babies had boobs.”

She continued to stare at him in silent judgment, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Shit, sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, checking to make sure Gemma was still okay with her bottle. Looking back up at Svetlana, he waved vaguely in her direction. “My wife doesn’t…”

“Your wife does not breastfeed?” Svetlana shifted on the bench, pulling her now sleeping baby from her chest and settling him across her shoulder, covering herself deftly with the blanket until her shirt was back in place.

“Right. She doesn’t like it, says it hurts.” Kevin shook his head. “I mean I get that, but it’s part of the deal. Amy bites her a couple times and she just quits the gig.”

Svetlana narrowed her eyes at him, patting the baby on the back as she spoke. “Imagine you are swimming, and baby shark comes out of nowhere and sinks his fucking teeth into your ballsacks.”

Kevin recoiled instinctively, grimacing at the thought.

“This is what it feels like when they bite nipple,” Svetlana continued, looking down at her son fondly. “Like they have declared war. If you had hammer in your hand, you would bash the brains out of the little shit without blinking.”

Kevin nodded in horrified understanding, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Wow, I think I owe Vee an apology.”

Svetlana shrugged. “Still, this is no reason to quit. There are ways to stop biting.”

“See, that’s what I mean,” Kevin said, latching on to the suggestion. “She didn’t even try, she just gave up.”

Svetlana pulled her baby from her shoulder when he woke, fussing lightly until she rearranged him. Kevin wracked his brain for the complicated name Ian had repeated for him many times, but he couldn’t get it right.

“His name’s Yev- Yevger-, Y-”

“Yevgeny,” Svetlana said slowly. “You can call him Yev if easier, rest of family does. Name is difficult for Americans.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard Ian call him that,” Kevin remembered, wincing when Gemma tugged on his hair and pulling the strands out of her fist, attempting to shove them back behind his shoulder. “Seems to really like the kid. You like having him around?”

Smiling lightly, Svetlana stroked a hand over Yevgeny’s head. “My husband has no interest in baby. Ian, he helps. I appreciate, baby is lot of work.”

Kevin chuckled, pulling the now empty bottle from Gemma’s mouth and positioning her over the blanket on his shoulder to start burping her. “You can say that again.”

Svetlana watched him for a moment, glancing into the stroller where Amy was still resting peacefully. “Who helps you?”

Kevin shrugged uncomfortably. “Vee has interest, it’s just...I mean, she works a lot.”

“Yes, I see her at Alibi most days.” Svetlana shook her head in wonder. “Two babies, no help? I could not do, I have enough trouble with one.”

“Three, sometimes. My son, Dominick, is only with us every once in awhile, though. ” Kevin yelped when Gemma grabbed another chunk of his hair, pulling hard as she waved her arm around in excitement with the strands still trapped in her fist.

“You need haircut,” Svetlana noted, snickering as Gemma tugged again, yanking his head forward with no warning.

“I know,” Kevin sighed, grabbing his hair back and moving Gemma down to sit in his lap. “Vee likes it long, though.”

They sat in contented silence for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze and watching kids play in the nearby park. Eventually, Kevin turned to her with a smile.

“This is cool, hanging out with you and the kids, talking about baby stuff. It’s like being in the mommy forums, but in real life.”

Svetlana raised a sculpted brow. “Mommy forums?”

Kevin blushed, waving his hand dismissively. “Internet stuff. But seriously, we should do playdates or something. I always thought you were just some hand job whore, but you seem alright. Uh, no offense.”

Svetlana smiled beatifically. “Is okay, I thought you were illiterate bartender pimp.”

Kevin shrugged, chuckling at the general accuracy of the description. “You wanna come back to our place to hang, maybe have some dinner? I got one of those Baby Mozart DVDs from the Goodwill, could pop it in for Yev and the girls. It’s supposed to be good for their development to listen to classical music.”

“Would you like that, little Zhenya?” Svetlana asked in a lilting voice, raising Yevgeny up so they were face to face and smiling warmly when he giggled in response, reaching his little arms out to grab at his mother’s cheeks. “He say yes.”

Kevin grinned, charmed by the display, and slid Gemma back into her seat in the stroller. He strapped her in and checked to make sure she and Amy were protected from the sun, pulling the double visors down and resting the blanket lightly over her exposed legs. Gesturing for Svetlana to precede him down the sidewalk, they started back towards his house.

“One playdate, coming up.”

*  
Mickey stalked into the club, wincing when the bright lights hit him full in the face. It was easy to forget it was still daylight outside, with the way this place swallowed everything up like a black hole. He walked fast, dodging the hordes of horny old men pawing at hot young guys, pushing away the knowledge that Ian was often the one being pawed. He scanned the crowd, searching out that bright orange red that usually drew his eyes like a beacon. But Ian wasn’t there, at least not out on the main floor.

Anxious to find him, Mickey pushed through the double doors in the back and made his way toward the locker room, pausing when a vaguely familiar man shouted after him.

“Hey! This area is for working boys only.”

Mickey turned, ignoring his distaste at the way he referred to the employees of the club and sizing him up. He looked like one of the manager types, dressed in regular clothing instead of glorified underwear like most of the guys that worked there. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m with Ian, you seen him?”

“You’re with who?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering where he was and who Ian pretended to be when he was here. “Curtis. I’m with Curtis.”

The manager smirked at him. “Not for now you’re not.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mickey felt his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, and willed himself not to jump to conclusions. Taking a deep breath, he continued in a measured tone. “He was supposed to be home an hour ago. You know where he is?”

He shrugged, an obvious look of pity replacing the amusement in his eyes. “Only know he didn’t leave alone.”

Mickey swallowed hard, feeling bile gathering in the pit of his stomach. “How long ago?

“Couple hours, I think. When his shift ended.”

Mickey nodded uncomfortably, taking a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down. Turning on his heel, he reached into his pocket for his phone and started to head out, stopping when the guy called something after him.

“What was that?” he asked, throwing a hostile glare over his shoulder.

“I said don’t be jealous.” He eyed Mickey up and down, a heated look replacing the sympathy as he walked toward him.

Mickey crossed his arms over his chest, shifting in discomfort at the unwanted attention. “The fuck’s it to you?”

“I’m just saying, it’s not the end of the world,” he continued, pitching his voice low. “I mean, if we weren’t allowed to bang other guys, we’d be just as boring as straight people.”

Mickey shook his head, feeling the white hot anger bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over. “That ain’t how it is with us.”

Misreading his body language, the guy stepped closer, crowding into Mickey’s space. “Seems like maybe your boyfriend didn’t get the memo. Why should you hold yourself back when he won’t?”

Mickey laughed without humor, his last bit of control slipping away as the anger won out. His arm shot forward quickly, fist landing squarely in the manager’s gut. Mickey grunted in satisfaction when he fell to the ground, kicking viciously at his side and allowing himself to vent his frustration on him.

“Fuckin’ cheatin’ on me,” he muttered, so quietly the guy probably couldn’t hear. His face twisted in distress when he heard the words out loud, putting a name to his suspicions. Holding back the sob trying to work its way out of his throat, Mickey kicked out again, feeling the toe of his boot digging a little too hard into his victim’s ribs.

Mickey backed away when a loud groan caught his attention, pulling him out of his rage and reminding him of where he was. He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking around and noting gratefully that they were still alone. With one last glance at the man crumpled and moaning on the ground, he walked away, shoving aggressively at patrons and picking up the pace to get across the crowded floor and out of the club as fast as possible.

Mickey gulped in deep mouthfuls of air once he hit the sidewalk, continuing a short distance to a quieter building across the street. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he saw that he had no messages, his many calls and texts still unanswered. He hit the call button next to Ian’s name, listening to the endless ringing until his voicemail finally picked up.

“Ian,” he said gruffly, trying to cover the deep waver in his voice. “Where the fuck are you right now?”

*  
Fiona dropped a full box of spaghetti into the pot of boiling water on the stove, glancing up and smiling in greeting when Debbie came through the back door. The smile fell from her face when she caught sight of the deep bruising around her left eye and the spattering of blood on her t-shirt.

“Whoa, Debs, what the hell happened?” Fiona gave the pasta a fast stir before walking quickly around the counter, grabbing Debbie’s chin gently to angle her face up. “That shiner’s no joke. And whose blood is that?”

Debbie shrugged, pulling back from Fiona’s grasp and stepping into the bathroom to look in the mirror. Fiona followed, watching as she pressed her fingers into the bruise around her eye, a strange kind of pride washing over her face. “Hard to say. Could be Holly’s, could be Ellie’s.”

Fiona met her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “I thought you were takin’ the high road with those girls. Now you’re gettin’ in fights?”

“Yeah well, that was before they started all those rumors about me.” Debbie’s face twisted momentarily, the deep hurt underneath the bravado slipping through, before she slid her mask back in place and continued in a confident voice. “It felt good to fight back.”

“Yeah, I bet it did.” Fiona squeezed her shoulder in sympathy before heading back to the stovetop, stirring the pasta again and turning on the burner underneath the sauce.

“Besides, I totally dominated them,” Debbie continued, demeanor lightening as she recalled the fight. “Holly got in one good punch, but after that I owned her.”

Fiona watched her sister with an amused smile, glad to see some of her spirit back despite her worry about the fighting. “As your legal guardian, I’m obligated to say violence is wrong. But as your sister-those bitches deserved it.”

Debbie grinned, opening her mouth to add something else before her attention was caught by Liam tugging insistently on the bottom of her shorts.

“Ouch,” he said, pointing to her face with a troubled expression. “Did someone hurt you?”

Debbie shook her head, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him up onto her hip, exaggerating the effort it took to make him laugh. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.”

Liam ran his fingers over her cheek doubtfully before burying his head in her shoulder and hugging his arms tightly around her neck. Fiona smiled at them as Debbie kissed Liam’s temple, returning the hug and accepting the comfort he offered.

She looked back over at Fiona, biting her lip tentatively. “I think I want to start training, actually. There was a guy who saw the fight, and he said I have potential and I should come to his gym. He can teach me proper form and some better moves.”

Fiona raised a skeptical brow. “You sure that’s a good idea? You don’t even know the guy. I’m sure Ian could help you out, he’s into all that fitness stuff. I could ask him next time we go running.”

“Ian’s too busy, and I think it would be cool to do it with a real trainer.” Debbie set Liam down when he began squirming, eyes following him as he ran back to the living room to watch his evening cartoons. “It’s like self-defense. And it makes me feel good, and it would be nice to get regular exercise, and the gym is only like a ten minute walk from school, and-”

“Okay, I get it!” Fiona laughed, thinking it over. She ran through some numbers in her head as she stirred the pasta sauce slowly, trying to figure out if they could swing it. “How much does it cost?”

Debbie grinned happily. “That’s the best part, it doesn’t! Derek said he could get me in and train me for free, he works there and he’s friends with the owner.”

Fiona watched her closely, taking in the way her voice changed when she mentioned her new trainer. “Derek, huh? And how old is Derek?”

“Fifteen,” Debbie said, inspecting her cuticles. “He goes to school with me. And it doesn’t matter, it’s not like that. He’s really cute, he probably doesn’t think of me that way.” 

“Hey,” Fiona chided gently, reaching across the counter to stroke a hand over her cheek. “You’re beautiful, and any guy who doesn’t think of you that way is an idiot.”

Debbie looked away as her cheeks reddened, clearing her throat uncomfortably. “So, is dinner almost ready?”

“Yes, what are we having for dinner?” Frank interrupted, strolling in from the living room and causing Debbie to jump in surprise.

Fiona rolled her eyes, putting an arm up to barricade him from the stove. “There’s no dinner for you here, Frank.” She looked across the counter, gesturing for Debbie to head into the living room. “It’ll be ready in a few, Debs. Why don’t you go get Liam washed up?”

Debbie shot Frank a dirty look as she called for Liam, grabbing his hand to lead him to the bathroom upstairs.

“I have just as much right to this food as anyone else,” Frank blustered, dodging around Fiona to open the cabinets next to the fridge. He pulled a few boxes down, rooting through their contents. “You’re living in my house, I’ll remind you.”

“Why the hell are you here, Frank?” Fiona pushed him aside as she brought the scalding hot pot over to the sink, pouring the pasta into the strainer she’d already set out.

Frank waited until the boiling water was down the drain and then bent to retrieve a plastic bag from under the sink, filling it with the crackers he’d taken from the cupboard. “In case you didn’t notice, my house blew up and my wife abandoned me to travel to parts unknown. Where else do you expect me to go?”

“I can think of a few good places for ya,” Fiona snarked, transferring the spaghetti to a large bowl and grabbing the saucepan by the handle. “The homeless shelter, that bench in front of the Alibi, the city dump, any old ditch along the side of the street…”

“Yeah, yeah, make all the jokes you want, but I’m going to take what’s rightfully mine,” Frank grumbled, opening the fridge to grab a couple bottles of water and toss them into his bag. He eyed the rest of the contents, moving to the freezer and peering inside, displeased. “Don’t you have any real food in this place? Or liquor? I can’t even scrounge up a measly beer.”

Fiona smirked as she stirred the pasta and sauce together, happy to see him stymied in his efforts to loot them. “It’s called clean livin’, Frank, maybe you should try it. Especially since that shiny new liver of yours is gonna give out if you don’t.”

Frank ignored her, making a grab for the bowl of pasta and scowling when Fiona slapped him away. “Fine, I’ll see myself out. I know when I’m not wanted.”

Fiona didn’t bother to respond, watching silently until he left the house. She heard him clear the back porch steps and turned to see Debbie peeking her head around the the corner from the stairwell.

“Coast clear?”

Fiona nodded and passed the bowl of pasta to Debbie when she reached for it, following behind her to set a stack of plates and forks on the table. “That was good thinkin’, movin’ all the real food under the stairs. He only managed to find some crackers and a couple bottles of water before he gave up.”

Debbie smiled smugly, scooping out a serving of pasta for Liam and setting it down in front of him, breaking up the noodles into smaller chunks before handing him his fork. “I knew his laziness would work in our favor.”

“Gonna check the squirrel fund, just to be on the safe side,” Fiona said, walking around the counter to climb up and reach her arm into the back of the top cupboard. “Never know, he could’ve been in here while we were out, too.”

“Yeah, better safe than sorry,” Debbie agreed, plating up her own serving of pasta.

“Where the hell is Carl, anyway? He’s been gone all day.”

“Still working, I think,” Debbie answered neutrally, eyes glued to her plate.

“I don’t get how he’s pulling so many hours over there,” Fiona mused, jumping back down with the large can in hand. Pealing the top off, the reached inside for the envelope of cash. “What kind of store- _holy shit!_ ”

Fiona held the wad of money in her fist, staring at it dumbfounded. She blinked rapidly a few times, waiting for what she was seeing in front of her to change.

“Where did all this money come from?” she asked, pointing to it as she caught Debbie’s eye. She looked away from Fiona quickly, shrugging and focusing on twirling a chunk of spaghetti noodles around her fork.

Fiona’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she began counting. “There’s, like, four times as much money as there should be. Ian hasn’t been here in weeks, and Lip isn’t making nearly this much at that construction job, it couldn’t have been him. Where’d it come from?”

“Fiona,” Debbie groaned, dropping her fork and pinning her with an incredulous look. “Do you really need me to say it?”

Fiona’s eyes widened, pieces coming together in her head. “Is Carl...I mean, Carl’s job-”

Debbie nodded, relief evident in her expression as she finally admitted it out loud. “He doesn’t work at a fruit market.”

*  
Lip glanced up as the car rolled to a stop at the corner near the Alibi. “Hey Raul, you can just let me out here.”

“You sure? No trouble to take you the rest of the way.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Lip reassured him. “Gonna go say hi to my friend, he tends bar over there. Thanks for the ride.”

Raul waved off his thanks, shooting him a mischievous grin over his shoulder. “Gonna be seeing you again soon?”

Lip scratched at his cheek, shrugging. “Maybe. Guess we’ll see if I passed the test.”

“I’m rooting for you, man,” he replied, tipping his hat slightly.

“Yeah, thanks. Have a good one.” Lip opened the door, looking around to see if anyone was watching before he stepped out. His phone chimed just as the car pulled away, notifying him that Amanda had sent him a text.

_So the truth is out. You were just using me to get to my dad this whole time._

Lip smiled, rubbing at his eyebrow as he typed out a reply with one hand.

_You got me._

Lip pocketed his phone and walked briskly to the bar, pulling the door open and stepping inside. The dark and dingy atmosphere was a shock to his system after the day spent in light and luxury, but he brushed it off, grabbing a stool and looking around for Kevin.

“Well, look who it is, wrapping up his ghetto summer tour before he heads off to the Ivy Tower.”

He turned to see Mickey sitting a few barstools down, slumped over a mostly empty beer with half a dozen empty shot glasses strewn across the bar in front of him.

Lip raised a brow, unimpressed with Mickey’s sloppy attempt at an insult. “It’s Ivory Tower, alright? If you’re gonna talk shit at least do it right.”

Mickey shrugged, picking up his last remaining shot and downing it quickly, chasing it with his last swallow of beer. Lip watched him, slightly curious about why he was half in the bag on a random weeknight. After a moment’s pause he brushed it off, figuring it was none of his concern, and turned back to scan the room.

“You looking for Kev?” Veronica asked, appearing beside him to set a rack of glasses on the bar. At Lip’s nod, she shook her head. “Not working tonight. He’s at home with the little she-devils.”

Lip eyed her with amusement. “Another fun new nickname?”

“Got lots of ‘em,” Veronica muttered, walking around to take her place behind the bar. “You want a drink anyway? Your other favorite drinking buddy is around here somewhere.”

“And who would that be?” Lip looked behind him, groaning when he saw Frank sprawled out in one of the booths along the back wall. Looking closer, he realized he was fast asleep, a pile of broken crackers on the table in front of him and head tilted back at an awkward angle that was sure to leave him sore when he woke up.

Turning back to Veronica, Lip smirked and pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “That his new bed?”

“His ass is out on the street the second those doors get locked,” she said sharply. “Already told Kate to boot him when the time comes. So you want a drink or what?”

Lip nodded, grabbing for his phone again. “Yeah, let me have an Old Style.”

Checking his messages, he saw another text from Amanda.

_You had a good time, though, right? Dad will be devastated if you never come back._

Lip grinned to himself as he tapped out a response, taking a sip of his beer when Veronica set it down in front of him.

_Won’t be a problem._

Dropping his phone down next to his glass, Lip turned to see Veronica fixing Mickey with a stern look.

“You’re done here, kid.”

“The fuck,” Mickey groaned, kicking lightly against the wood paneling in front of his stool. “You don’t need to cut me off, I’m fuckin’ fine. Probably been drinkin’ longer than you have, I can hold my liquor.”

“Uh huh,” Veronica replied skeptically, gathering up the empty shot glasses in front of him and dropping them into the sink. “Well you can go hold it somewhere else. You’re not even legal, can’t be getting you shitfaced.”

Mickey’s face twisted angrily, finger pointing hard into the surface of the bar. “Bitch, don’t-”

“Hey, whoa,” Lip interjected, brows raising as he looked at Mickey again, taking in the redness of his eyes and the downturned corners of his mouth. “Don’t talk to her like that. What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

Mickey flipped him off, downing the rest of his beer before turning to look at Lip with a sneer. “Fuck off, Phillip. Don’t need to take shit from some bitch ass poser.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lip grimaced when the words left his mouth, angry with himself for rising to the bait.

“You ain’t even real South Side anymore. No, you got the expensive watch and the personal chauffeur and that rich bitch girlfriend.”

Lip's jaw tightened at the mention of Amanda, fingers tightening where they were gripping the edge of the bar.

“Just here biding time for a few months until you can go back to your other life. But where you gonna be when the real shit’s goin’ down, huh?”

Lip swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a deep breath and push away the sting of his words, unsettled by how close to home they were hitting.

“Fuck off, Mickey.”

“Gladly. I’ve had it with you Gallaghers.” Mickey stood from his stool, pushing away from the bar and stumbling a little as he found his bearings. Lip met Veronica’s eyes, seeing his own question reflected there.

“Mickey, where’s Ian?” he asked cautiously, suspicion blooming as he watched warily for his reaction.

“The fuck should I know.” Mickey rubbed the palms of his hands aggressively into his eyes, further irritating the already red skin. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “I ain’t his keeper. Ain’t shit, apparently.”

Lip narrowed his eyes. “He was working today, right? He didn’t come home?”

Mickey shook his head, mumbling something too low for Lip to hear.

“Say again?”

“Left with some random dude from the club.” Mickey stared at him defiantly, daring him to say something about it. “Went looking when he didn’t come home, guy from his work told me.”

“Shit.” Lip scratched a hand through his hair, at a loss for what to say. He startled when he felt a glass being set down next to his elbow.

“Alright, one more.” Veronica shot Mickey a sympathetic look as he stepped forward and grabbed the beer, taking a long swallow. “But that’s it. Lip, make sure he gets home.”

Lip raised a brow. “He my responsibility now?”

“I think your brother would appreciate it,” Veronica pointed out.

Lip sighed, knowing she was right. “I’m on it.”

He watched as she walked away, taking another drink of his beer and avoiding looking at Mickey.

He huffed at him a moment later, keeping his eyes fixed on his drink. “Don’t need a babysitter.”

“Kinda seems like you do.” Taking a breath, Lip braced himself for an uncomfortable conversation. “This really that big a deal? Thought Ian hooked up all the time.”

Mickey looked him full in the face, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “The fuck are you sayin’?”

Lip shrugged. “Always seemed to be sticking it to a few dudes at a time. Just never seemed like you two were an exclusive thing.”

Mickey waved his hand dismissively. “That was before. Shit’s different now.”

“Is it?” Lip asked, feeling some vague sense of satisfaction as Mickey swallowed hard and averted his eyes. “You think because you announce your love of buttfucking to the neighborhood, suddenly Ian’s gonna change? Couple months of playin’ house and he’s supposed to be a different person?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” Mickey insisted, voice thick with emotion.

“Maybe not,” Lip admitted. “But I know my brother’s not here right now, and we both know what he’s probably doing.”

Mickey didn’t respond, circling a finger on the bartop to make patterns in the leftover condensation from his glass. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “I think maybe you were right. About him bein’ sick.”

Lip turned to regard him seriously. “Why? Just ‘cause of this shit?”

Mickey shook his head, thumbing at his lip for a moment. “Other stuff, too. Been bouncin’ off the walls, too much energy. And he’s doin’ weird shit. Stole a bunch of luggage from the airport, packed the house full. Thinks we can get rich sellin’ peoples’ junk.”

“Goddammit, Mickey.” Lip slammed his hand down on the bar. “I fucking told you to come to us if any of that started happening. You had no right to keep it to yourself.”

“Fuck off, you got eyes too,” Mickey retorted. “If you’re so goddamn worried, why ain’t you been at the house to check on him, huh? Coulda seen for yourself.”

Lip swallowed hard, the fight going out of him as he slumped over the bar.

“Yeah, you fucking knew just as much as I did.”

Lip sighed wearily, finishing the last of his beer in one long swallow. “So we talk to him, try to get him to the clinic.”

“If he ever comes home.” Mickey stepped off his stool, rubbing a hand over his eyes and heading towards the door.

“You gonna wait up for him?” Lip asked.

Mickey nodded. “Not like I can sleep.”

Lip grabbed his wallet, tossing a few bills on the bar and standing up to follow him. “I’ll come with, hang out for a bit. Might be a long night.”

Mickey eyed him skeptically, finally shrugging and gesturing for Lip to precede him out the door. “Suit yourself.”

*  
Kevin ran a hand over his freshly shaven head in wonder. “Damn, this feels amazing.”

“You like?” Svetlana gave him a pleased smile, pulling Yevgeny off her breast as he finished feeding and settling him over her shoulder, yanking her shirt up to cover herself.

“I feel like I lost ten pounds or something,” Kevin replied, bending over to lift Amy from her place on the blanket in front of the television. She began fussing immediately, hands groping fruitlessly at the air around his head.

“You hungry, baby?”

He walked over to the kitchen, frowning when he realized there was no formula in the cupboard. Kevin looked through the others, attempting to make conversation with Svetlana as he searched.

“So what are you guys doing for money now that the rub ‘n tug is done? We still got the bar, at least, but it’s definitely a hit to the finances.”

Svetlana sighed, running a hand over Yevgeny’s back. “Husband is trying to come up with something. We still have Orange Boy and sister working regular jobs, will keep us going for now. And I heard from a couple of girls that there is good money in surrogacy.”

“What, like having someone else’s baby?”

Svetlana nodded. “Would just carry it for them. Like I am oven, but is their bun. They say they pay half upfront, half when baby is delivered. I put ad in paper, got couple phone calls, will see if any of them work out.”

“That’s cool,” Kevin said, groaning in frustration when Amy’s cries grew more insistent. “Shit, I think we’re out of formula.”

“Here, give to me.” Svetlana gestured for him to place Amy in her arms and passed Yevgeny over. He went easily, resting his sleepy head on Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin watched in fascination as Svetlana brought Amy to her breast, smiling when she stopped fussing and latched on.

“See? Is no problem.”

Kevin paused, about to tell her to stop, but he was caught by the sight of Amy looking so natural and content. He settled back into the couch and let it go, figuring it couldn’t hurt for her to breastfeed this one time.

“I am more worried about other girls.” Svetlana’s voice broke into his thoughts, continuing their earlier conversation with a heavy sigh. “I try to keep track and offer place to stay, but most have gone back to Sasha.”

“Your old pimp?”

Svetlana nodded, face pinched in worry. “She is violent, greedy bitch, but she is what they know. They are too afraid to be on their own.”

Kevin frowned, opening his mouth to reply. He stopped when the door abruptly opened, Veronica stepping inside.

“Baby, you will not believe the night I’ve ha- _what the fuck!_ ”

Kevin winced as Veronica’s eyes honed in on Svetlana and Amy, mouth dropping open in shock. “Why is there a hooker’s tit in my baby’s mouth?”

Kevin placed Yevgeny gently on the floor beside Gemma, walking over to Veronica with his hands raised in a placating gesture. “We ran out of formula, Svetlana offered to help.”

Veronica’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. “You could have called me, I would have brought you some goddamn formula. And where  _the fuck_  is your hair?!”

“Look, it just happened, okay? It’s no big deal, Svetlana was already breastfeeding Yev, so she just let Amy have a turn. And I needed a haircut, the girls kept pulling it!”

Veronica’s face twisted in anger. “What the fuck is she even doing here? You inviting whores over for dinner now? Having a little date night while I’m at work?”

Svetlana stood abruptly, setting Amy down and lifting Yevgeny, cradling him close against her chest. “I think is baby’s bedtime, we will go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Kevin insisted, shaking his head as the girls began to cry behind them. “Vee, can you stop with the whore shit? It’s Svetlana, you know her.”

Svetlana shook her head, stepping around them and heading for the door. “Is okay, we go. Bye bye.”

Kevin watched her leave, shooting Veronica an exasperated look. “You didn’t have to be so rude. She was trying to help.”

“That’s what you’re worried about right now, defending your little hooker pal?” Veronica stared at him, angry tears forming in her eyes. “What else would have happened if I hadn’t come home early? Were you gonna take your turn with her tits, too?”

Kevin sighed, crouching down to rub a comforting hand over Amy and Gemma’s backs. “It’s not like that, Vee. I just had a friend over to hang with the babies. Please don’t turn it into a big deal.”

Veronica shook her head incredulously, eyes traveling over his shaved head. “I loved that hair. That was my hair, Kev, and you knew that. How could you do this?”

Kevin squinted at her, confused by her reaction. “Baby, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back. It’s easier this way, when the girls are still so young.”

Veronica watched him sadly, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “You won’t fuck me anymore, you fed our baby hooker’s milk, you shaved your head. And you wanna act like none of that means anything, like I’m the one with a problem. Who the fuck  _are_  you?”

Kevin’s mouth gaped open, stunned at the accusation in her voice. “Vee, I didn’t-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Veronica wiped a hand over her cheeks, heading for the stairs. “I’m packing a bag, and I’m going. I need a break.”

“A break from me?” Kevin asked, shock giving way as tears pooled in his own eyes. He looked down at the girls, pained as they continued to cry. “Or from us?”

“From all of it,” Veronica said firmly, heading up the stairs. “I’ll let you know where I end up.”

*  
Fiona peered around the corner, scanning the sidewalk in front of the fruit market. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Carl, sitting casually on a bench next to the main exit. He was dressed in unfamiliar clothes, a pair of glasses she’d never seen perched on his face, his backpack resting next to him and a book open in his lap.

She watched with growing incredulity as a woman leaving the market stopped in front of Carl, sliding a few bills across his book and accepting a small baggie, tucking it in with her groceries and continuing on her way. The whole interaction was over in a few seconds, carried out with practiced ease.

Shaking her head angrily, Fiona stalked over to the bench, coming to a stop in front of her brother and waiting impatiently for him to acknowledge her.

“Dime or dub?” Carl asked, keeping his eyes fixed on his book. “Got larger quants if you need them, too.”

Fiona planted her hands on her hips and looked down at him sternly. “Oh really? Tell me more about what you got.”

Carl’s eyes shot up in surprise, widening behind his fake glasses. “Shit.”

“Shit is right,” Fiona barked. “You got all that stored in your backpack? If the cops showed, exactly how much weed would they find on you? Enough to put you away for awhile, I bet.”

Ignoring his stammered attempts at a response, Fiona grabbed his bag, tugging on his arm until he rose from the bench. “Up, now.”

Carl followed without struggle, allowing her to tow him away from the store and looking around to see if anyone was watching. “Fiona, can you just chill for a min-”

“I will  _not_  chill.” Fiona pulled him around the corner, coming to rest against the wall of the building and pointing an accusatory finger at his face. “What the hell are you thinking? You wanna get hurt? Or hauled away to juvie?”

Carl crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. “You’re overreacting. I’m selling at a grocery store, it’s totally safe. And G-Dogg’s looking out for me, I’m not gonna get busted.”

“Oh, G-Dogg’s got your back, huh? You think he wouldn’t look the other way if you got caught? You’re just some white kid he recruited as an experiment, you really think he gives a shit what happens to you?”

“That’s not how it is,” Carl insisted angrily, back straightening as his defensive instincts took over. “You don’t know anything about it. I’m part of his crew, he looks out for his guys.”

Fiona threw her hands up in frustration, looking to the sky as if she could find answers there. “What are you thinking, huh? I told you not to go looking for trouble, and you’ve been lyin’ to me for weeks.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Carl shrugged his shoulders, genuine confusion bleeding into his irritated tone. “Lip used to sell on the ice cream truck, you didn’t care about that.”

“He was selling joints and cigs, not bags of product!” Fiona said, exasperated. “And he was a lot older than you, it was different.”

Carl scowled. “I can handle myself, Fiona. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Fiona tugged on her hair in agitation. “Oh god, not you too. We don’t need the money this bad, Carl. Why would you do this?”

Carl fixed his eyes on the ground, flattening his mouth stubbornly and refusing to answer.

“Oh, you got nothin' to say now?” Fiona grabbed his arm, pushing him lightly down the sidewalk. “March your ass home. We’re gonna sit down and talk about this, and you’re gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on with you. I don’t care if I gotta pull it out of you one little word at a time.”

They made their way home, the buzz of the bugs flying around the streetlamps and the occasional shout from their neighbors the only sounds on the quiet street. Carl kept his gaze trained forward, stubbornly refusing to meet Fiona’s inquisitive stare.

Fiona unlatched the gate, gesturing for him to precede her into the house. She set his bag carefully on the chair by the window, turning to point at the couch. “Alright, sit down and-Vee?”

Veronica was curled up at the end of the couch, legs pulled into her chest and face resting against her knees. She looked up when Fiona said her name, the tearstains on her cheeks illuminated by the faint light coming in from the street. Fiona’s eyes traveled over her quickly, seeking out the source of her pain.

“Vee, what’s wrong?”

Carl stepped closer to Fiona, peering over at Veronica and down to the floor. “Why do you have a bag with you? Did Kev kick you out?”

“Upstairs,” Fiona snapped, pointing a finger at the stairway. “And don’t you dare touch that backpack. Go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning.”

Carl followed her instructions, clearly relieved to be getting out of an immediate lecture. Fiona watched until he ascended the stairs, turning back to Veronica and taking a seat beside her on the couch.

“What happened? You and Kev have another fight?”

Veronica took a deep, shaky breath, wiping a hand over her cheeks. “Would it be alright if I stay here for awhile?”

Fiona’s face softened as she reached out to stroke a hand over Veronica’s cheek. “Of course. Are you okay?”

Veronica shook her head, trying and failing to choke back a sob. Fiona brought her arms up around her, pulling her in close and tearing up when she felt Veronica’s hot tears spilling against her neck. She stroked a hand over her back, hugging her tight.

“Shh, it’ll be okay, Vee. I got you.”

*  
Mickey took a long pull from his beer bottle, wincing slightly when he realized it had gone warm in his hands. He gazed out the window, eyes trained on the sky as it gradually lightened, darkness giving way to varied shades of gray. Yevgeny whimpered lightly in his carrier beside him, and Mickey turned to him, watching curiously as he comforted himself and resettled.

“Svetlana’s lucky you’re an easy baby.” Mickey spoke in a hushed tone, not wanting to disturb the peace of the quiet morning. “Wouldn’t have let you sit with me if you weren’t. Like I need anything else to take care of right now.”

Yevgeny stayed silent, fully asleep again and oblivious to Mickey’s voice reaching out to him.

“Aunt Mandy’s at work, though. And Uncle Lip had to go home some time.”

Mickey wiped a hand over his face, checking his phone compulsively even though he knew what he would see. Nothing.

“Don’t tell him I called him that, would give the prick too much satisfaction. But someone had to help, your mom needed to get some sleep. And Ian-”

Mickey stopped, swallowing hard and taking another swig of the lukewarm beer. Releasing a deep sigh, he looked over at Yevgeny again.

“I don’t know where he is. But I hope he comes home soon.”

They sat side by side for a few minutes more, Mickey listening to the sound of the baby’s steady breathing, finding it comforting in a way he couldn’t really understand. He perked up when he heard the back door open, eyes honing in on the kitchen as he waited to see who would come through.

Ian smiled when he saw him, as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t disappeared for half a day with no explanation, hadn’t left work to spend the night fucking some guy, or worse. “Hey, you watching Yevgeny? Where’s Svetlana?”

Mickey just looked at him, not sure where to start. When he finally spoke, his voice came out weaker than he’d like, hoarse from the long night of smoking and drinking. “Where you been?”

Ian shook his head, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Crazy night.”

Mickey felt his jaw clenching, and took a deep breath before he continued. “That's what you call leaving the club with some fairy while I wait around for you like a bitch, huh?”

Ian shook his head, clearly amused by Mickey’s irritation. Setting his bag down, he reached inside the pocket, grabbing something and tossing it to Mickey. “You’re welcome.”

Mickey caught it on instinct, eyes widening when he realized it was a wad of cash. He removed the rubber band, counting it quickly. “Where’d you get this?”

“Did some extra work last night, that’s why I left with someone. Didn’t think it would take that long, probably should have texted.”

Mickey’s shoulders almost relaxed, but he paused, considering. “What do you mean, extra work? You do a private party or some shit?”

“Nah, I did a porno.” Ian spoke casually, taking a sip from his water bottle.

Mickey stared at him, uncomprehending. “You did what?”

Ian shrugged. “Yeah, I figured we needed the money, and this guy offered, so why not.”

Mickey threw the money forcefully down on the table, wiping his hands on his shirt. He looked hard at Ian, incredulous. “Some queen told you he’d pay you to do a porno and you thought ‘yeah, that’s a good idea’?”

“It wasn’t like it was a big deal, and it was easy money.” Ian tilted his head, gazing at Mickey like he was trying to figure him out. “The guy I did the scene with said he was clean, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mickey’s mouth dropped open in shock, eyes widening. “You didn’t use a rubber? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?”

Ian’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why you getting mad? It’s not like we always use one.”

Mickey waited a beat, sure that Ian would see the difference. When he didn’t say anything further, Mickey waved his arm between them forcefully. “That’s you and me,  _together_. Because we don’t fuck other people, so we’re safe. Right?”

Ian winced, reaching for him. “Okay, I get it. I didn’t think about it like that. Should have used a condom.”

Mickey backed away, shaking his head. “Don’t touch me.”

The hurt on Ian’s face hit Mickey square in the chest, and he almost gave in, almost took it back. But he looked at that money, fanned out over the table, and he couldn’t let it go.

“You think this is okay, Ian? Think I’d be cool with you fucking some other guy for money? Not even protecting yourself?”

He watched Ian’s face, searching for any sign that he was hearing him, but he just looked at Mickey steadily, face contorted in confusion.

“Did you think about it at all?” Mickey asked, already knowing the answer. He shook his head, blinking fast to keep the tears gathering behind his eyes at bay. “You’re sick, Ian.”

Ian laughed in disbelief, looking around the room like he was waiting for the punchline. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Mickey repeated, more confidently this time. “This shit ain’t normal. I been tryin’ and tryin’ to pretend, but I can’t anymore. It’s not okay, you need help.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed, mouth tightening in anger. “Fuck you.”

Mickey gazed at him sadly. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but we gotta get to you to the clinic. Now, tonight. Before you do somethin’ even worse.”

The look of betrayal on Ian’s face made Mickey’s heart clench, but he let his words stand, watching him warily.

“I’m not going to the fucking clinic.” Ian clenched his fists at his sides, hurt turning swiftly to anger. “I told Fiona no, I told Lip no, and now I’m telling you the same. Never thought I’d have to.”

“I can’t just sit here and--”

“Pretend, right?” Ian’s eyes glistened as he let out a breathy chuckle. “That’s what you said, you’ve been pretending. Pretending I made you happy? Pretending I was enough?”

Mickey’s eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a frustrated groan. “That’s not what I fuckin’ said!” He stepped closer, reaching a hand out to grab Ian’s arm, trying to make sure he was listening.

“Don’t touch me,” Ian spat.

Mickey stood stunned, caught off guard by his own words thrown back in his face.

“I gotta get out of here,” Ian muttered, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading for the back door.

“No,” Mickey called hoarsely, relieved when Ian paused, glancing back over his shoulder. He thought fast, going over his options in his head. “Please. Just stay, okay? Just, fucking- just sit. We can figure this out.”

Ian eyed him skeptically. “No more talk about the clinic?”

Mickey shook his head. “No more. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Okay,” Ian said cautiously, giving Mickey a wide berth as he sat down on the couch next to Yevgeny, who’d managed to sleep through the whole conversation.

Mickey sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Ian’s voice was full of suspicion as he watched Mickey closely.

“Just grabbing more smokes,” Mickey lied, backing away and into their bedroom. Once he was out of the doorway, he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Lip’s number in his contacts. He hesitated, not sure if this was the right thing, but at a loss for what else to do.

Just as he moved his thumb over the call button, Mickey heard Yevgeny crying, followed by the sound of the front door slamming.

“No,” he muttered, tossing his phone down and running back into the living room, panicking when he saw that Ian was gone, along with Yevgeny’s carrier. Sprinting through the front door, he hit the porch just as the car pulled away, tires squealing against the pavement.

“Ian!” Mickey ran instinctively, pushing the gate aside and following the car down the block. “Shit,  _Yevgeny_. Ian, come back!”

The car disappeared around the corner, taking Ian and Yevgeny with it. Mickey slowed to a stop, burying his face in his hands as he realized how badly he’d fucked it up. He stood stunned, unable to do anything but repeat himself hopelessly.

“Ian.”


	5. The Scare Of Your Heart

Fiona stood as a barricade in front of the bathroom, arms crossed in front of her chest as she waited for the door to swing open.

“Fuck!” Carl jumped and nearly ran into his sister as he stepped into the hallway.

“What, did I ruin your plan to go back to bed and sleep ‘til I left for the day?”

Carl rubbed his eyes and avoided Fiona’s stare. “It’s like 6 in the morning and it’s summer, of course I’m going back to bed.” He attempted to slide past her, but she moved to block his path.

“Don’t think so.“ Fiona placed her palm flat in the center of his back and pushed him in front of her, grabbing his shoulders and steering him in the direction of the staircase. “Come on. Downstairs.”

Carl groaned, but obeyed Fiona’s orders. She followed him into the kitchen, her cup of coffee waiting where she’d left it. She pulled out a chair for Carl before taking her own seat and pursing her lips together, waiting for him to explain himself.

“You wanna start?” she asked when it became clear that Carl wasn’t going to initiate the conversation.

“No.” Carl blinked tiredly, probably hoping Fiona would take pity on him and tell him to go back to bed.

Fiona cocked her head. “Try again.”

“What do you want me to say?” he grumbled, eyelids drooping. He was definitely putting on a show, and Fiona wasn’t buying it.

She grabbed his chin and brought his head up to look at her. “How ‘bout tellin' me what the hell you were thinkin’? Drugs? Really, Carl?”

Carl rolled his eyes. “It’s just weed, and I don’t smoke it.”

“Oh, because that makes me feel so much better.” Fiona sunk back into her chair and smiled, feigning relief. “You’re just sellin’ it on the streets.”

Carl shrugged, eyes boring into the floor. “It’s legal in Colorado.”

“Then when you’re eighteen and you’ve got your high school diploma in your pocket you can move to Colorado and fulfill your lifelong dream of sellin’ marijuana.”

“Eighteen?” Carl snorted. “I’ll still be a freshman.”

Fiona gave him a pointed look, opening her mouth to preach about the importance of school when Lip came trudging down the stairs.

“Morning,” he said as he stumbled into the kitchen, clad only in a pair of jeans. He grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor and sniffed it before pulling it over his head.

Fiona lifted her chin to greet him. “Hey. You got in late last night.”

“Yeah, Mickey’s a needy drunk.” Lip poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip as he looked across the counter at his siblings.

“Mickey? You were hangin’ out with him?” Fiona raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Didn’t realize you guys had reached drinking buddy status.”

“Nah, he was at the Alibi waiting on Ian. Guess he didn’t come home after his shift last night. Sounds like he left the club with another guy.”

Fiona exchanged a knowing look with Lip. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Lip sighed, taking another sip of his coffee before changing the subject. “What are you guys doin’ up so early?”

“Have a seat,” Fiona said, kicking a chair out for him. “We’re giving Carl a life lesson.”

“Life lecture,” Carl scoffed. “You think the rest of G-Dogg’s crew gets their asses chewed out by their big sisters?”

“They should be so lucky.”

Lip sat down beside Fiona and looked at Carl questioningly. “Who the fuck is G-Dogg?”

“Carl doesn’t have a job at the fruit market,” Fiona informed him snidely, looking sharply at Carl as she spoke. “He’s been sellin’ drugs with some guy named G-Dogg and his gang.”

Lip scooted to the edge of his chair, leaning across the table and narrowing his eyes at Carl. “Wait, you’re in a gang?”

“It’s not a gang,” Carl insisted, rocking back on the hind legs of his chair. “It’s a job. It’s legit.”

“It’s  _illegal_.” Fiona spoke slowly, trying to drill that important fact into Carl’s head.

“Lip used to steal cars with Jimmy.”

Fiona almost laughed at how little he thought this through. “That’s the argument you wanna go with? Lip and Ian got  _arrested_. Lip almost had to do time.”

“We didn’t actually get busted while stealing a car. Jimmy stole it, we were just innocently borrowing it,” Lip corrected, earning him a smack on the head from Fiona, telling him to focus.

“Not the point,” she said through gritted teeth.

“The grand theft auto was stupid, and it was just a one time thing. There’s a difference.” Lip shot down Carl’s argument and tried to reason with him. “Besides, you don’t know who you’re selling to, man. Any one of your customers could be undercover waiting to bust you.”

Fionna nodded, grateful for Lip’s backup. She knew Carl was more likely to listen to him. “Yeah or worse, they could knock you over the head with a pipe to get their five finger discount.”

“It’s safe, I’m careful. And we need the money. Lip’s gonna go back to school soon and Ian moved all his shit into Mickey’s. I’m steppin’ up as the man of the house.”

Lip smirked. “Man of the house needs to actually be in the house, not in lock up. Find a slightly less illegal way to keep the ship afloat, yeah?”

“You’re overreacting,” Carl mumbled.

Fiona pointed an accusing thumb at Lip. “He’s underreacting. I’m reacting. You want overreacting?” she challenged, prepared to give Carl an infinitely worse scolding.

“Hold that thought.” Lip wriggled in his chair to pull his vibrating phone out of his pocket. “Don’t start without me.”

“Hey, Mickey,” he answered, and Fiona watched his face fall into confusion. “Wait, what? When? Fuck. Why the fuck didn’t you call? Alright, alright, we’ll be right there.”

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes followed Lip as he stood, pushing his phone back into his pocket and rubbing his palms anxiously on his jeans.

“Ian took off with Mickey’s kid a few hours ago, he can’t get ahold of him.”

“Shit.” Fiona ran a hand through her hair, shaken by the unexpected snag in her morning. She followed Lip’s lead, standing and slipping on a pair of shoes.

“I’ll stay here with Liam,” Carl said as he ran upstairs, where the toddler was still asleep.

Fiona huffed in frustration and Lip shrugged, both knowing that Carl’s criminal activities would have to wait. She stuck her head in the staircase to call after him. “You’re not off the hook, Carl!”

*

Ian gripped the steering wheel, a broad smile on his face as he stared ahead at the wide open road. A sign welcomed him to Indiana and his excitement mounted, barely able to sit still.

He glanced in the rearview mirror at the groggy baby in the backseat. “Hey, you’re awake!” he said as he watched him blink his eyes at the bright sunlight. Yevgeny yawned and smiled when he spotted Ian staring at him.

“Alright Yev, only like a thousand more miles,” he said, his gaze shifting back and forth between the mirror and the road. “If we drive straight through we can make it there in less than a day. I guess we might have to stop though, maybe once. We’ll see, right? But once we get there, man, you’re gonna love it. Florida’s great. No snow ever, just sunshine and white sandy beaches and palm trees.”

Ian shook his head in delight at the thought of it: he and Yev kicking back in the sand, feeling the warm sun on their faces, the soothing sounds of the ocean and a relaxing breeze.

“Lip’s girlfriend Amanda lives there sometimes. Well, I don’t really know if she’s his girlfriend, maybe more like fuck buddies.” He jumped at the realization of the words coming out of his mouth. “Oh fuck, I probably shouldn’t be talking to you about fuck buddies, huh? Shit, I should watch my mouth. Fuck. Shit!”

Ian howled with laughter, hitting his palm against the steering wheel, and Yevgeny echoed his giggles. Ian sighed as his laughter died down, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks were sore from the smile that seemed to be permanently stretched across his face, thrilled by the adventure they were embarking on. He glanced over to the passenger seat instinctively when he heard his phone ring, barely noticing which name was on the screen before turning away to continue his conversation.

“Anyway, Florida is so great, just so, so great. I’ve never been there but I just know it’s going to be great.” He rolled the window all the way down and stuck his arm out, moving his hand against the cool breeze. “You got Disney World, mojitos, cuban cigars, Pitbull, and pools! Pools everywhere. You’ll learn how to swim in no time. You should probably learn in a pool anyway and not the ocean because you don’t want to risk getting bit by a shark. How common do you think shark bites are? We’ll have to look that up. Ah, man. It’s going to be amazing.”

Ian turned the music up and began to sing along, chuckling to himself when he flubbed the words. He pushed back a strand of hair that the wind had blown in front of his eyes and let his arm hang out the window again, beating against the side of the car in rhythm with the music.

His eyes flicked to the mirror again when he heard Yevgeny begin to fuss in his carseat. Ian turned down the music before unbuckling his seatbelt to reach back and rub the baby’s leg comfortingly.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. We got nothing to worry about!” Ian took his hand back and leaned toward the open window, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh air. “You feel that? It’s like all our problems just, whoosh, gone. It’s great, right? Well, I guess you don’t really have that many problems, you’re a baby. Your biggest problem is probably a dirty diaper or something.”

Yevgeny’s cries began to build and Ian had a light bulb moment. “Ah, shit. You probably need to be changed, huh? Okay, no problem, it’s all good. We can just pull over right up here and get you all cleaned up. Won’t set us back more than five minutes.”

He pulled off onto a gravel driveway, a pole barn to their left and a vast empty field to their right. Ian stepped out of the car and stood in the middle of the driveway, spreading his arms wide and squeezing his eyes shut.

“This is so fucking great!” he shouted as he looked around at the desolate area, the afternoon sun shielded by light clouds.

Ian opened the back door and hastily unbuckled Yevgeny from his car seat, bringing him out into the open. “This is what freedom feels like, Yev,” he declared as he threw the baby into the air. He caught him in his hands again and lifted him up to the sky, arms outstretched above his head as he spun in a circle, laughing gleefully.

Yevgeny’s face scrunched into a frown, threatening to let out another wail, and Ian took the hint. He held the baby close to his chest and kissed the top of his head before laying him carefully on the hood of the car, leaving him there as he ducked inside.

“Alright, diaper, diaper. Gotta be a diaper in here somewhere, right?” Ian rummaged through the trash that littered the floor of the car, not coming up with anything but fast food bags and burger wrappers. He heard the baby begin to cry again as he checked the glove box, finding nothing there.

“It’s alright, little guy. Just stay there, okay?” Ian walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk, scavenging for anything he could use. “Let’s see, let’s see what we got here. Here we go, this’ll work.”

He plucked a ratty t-shirt out from the back corner and slammed the trunk closed, rounding the car to find Yevgeny still wailing on the hood.

“Look what I found! Motorhead!” Ian held the shirt up for for Yev to see before sliding it under him and taking off the wet diaper. “You’re gonna be such a little badass, all the other babies are going to see you and go running- no, crawling away in fear.”

He tied the sleeves of the shirt around him and held him up, admiring his handiwork. When Yevgeny’s shrieks didn’t subside, Ian held him against his chest and bounced him gently in an attempt to soothe him.

“Hey, why you still crying? You’re dry, you’re clean, you’re practically naked. What more could a baby want?” Yev howled in response, looking up at Ian with tear-filled eyes. “Ah, right. Hungry. babies have to eat. I’m guessing Mickey didn’t feed you before we left, huh?” He paused, thrown off by Mickey’s name coming out of his mouth, but he quickly regrouped and made himself busy, occupying his mind elsewhere.

Ian slid into the driver’s seat with Yevgeny in his arms, leaning over to look through the discarded fast food bags for any remnants. ”Nothin’, Yevvy. Okay, that’s alright, no problem.” He returned the baby to his car seat, buckling him in before starting the engine and shifting into drive. When his phone began to ring again he threw his bag over it, not interested in whatever it had to say. “We can make one more quick stop, then we’ll be on our way. Florida, here we come!”

*

“How the fuck you let this happen?” Svetlana spat, pacing the length of the kitchen. “What kind of idiot lets someone steal baby?”

“The fuck you mean ‘lets’?” Mickey’s hands flailed as he spoke, his own phone in one and Mandy’s in the other, waiting desperately for either of them to ring. “Like I knew he was gonna take off with the kid. How the fuck was I supposed to expect that?”

Svetlana shook a fist at him. “When you are watching baby you don’t let him out of sight!”

“You let Ian watch him all the time, that doesn’t make any fucking sense-”

“Would both of you just shut the fuck up?” Mandy interjected from her place on the couch. “Maybe we should think of something to do instead of standing here arguing about it.”

Mickey took a deep breath and ran his hand over his face, attempting to calm down. He tapped his phone quickly and tried to call Ian again, growing more and more anxious with each ring.

“We need to think of where he would go,” he heard Mandy say calmly as he listened to Ian’s voicemail greeting for the thousandth time.

When he hung up, he turned to find both of the women staring at him. “The fuck are you looking at me for?”

Mandy looked at him sympathetically. “Mick. Where would he go?”

Mickey breathed sharply and clenched his jaw, irritated by Mandy’s gentle tone and the assumption that he should have the answers, and the fact that Ian wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone.

“I don’t know.” Mickey shrugged and shook his head, annoyed. “Whenever he’s not here he’s either at Fiona’s or the club, right? It’s not like he has some secret hangouts. I know as much as you do.”

Mandy pulled her legs up onto the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Okay, so we know he’s not at Fiona’s. We can check the club, I guess. Look around Boystown.”

Svetlana stopped pacing at Mandy’s suggestion. “Why would he take baby to bar?”

“I don’t know.” Mandy glared, the calm slipping out of her voice. “Anyone have a better idea?”

“Yes!” Svetlana turned to Mickey and he knew what was coming. “Call police.”

“No, we’re not callin’ the cops, okay?” Mickey covered the distance between them, ready to tear the phone out of her hand if need be. “I scared him. He didn’t know what else to do.”

“You make excuses for him,” Svetlana accused, waving her phone in his face. “He is crazy!”

Mickey pushed her hand back down to her side, a new tenderness coming over him in an attempt to pacify her. “He freaked out, alright? He’ll calm down, get his shit straight, and bring the kid back."

Svetlana drew her mouth into a thin line, visibly shaken, and Mickey could tell that she was resisting the urge to fight him more on the subject.

“He will,” he reassured her, hoping his confidence was palpable.

If Svetlana was going to argue more, she didn’t have the chance. Lip and Fiona were suddenly bounding through the door and into the living room, looking about as distraught as Mickey felt.

“Hey, what the hell happened?” Fiona asked, hands on her hips. She looked around at all of them before her eyes settled on Mickey, waiting for an explanation.

Mickey sighed and rubbed at his eyes, sick of having to rehash the details of the last three hours. “I told him I was gonna take him to the clinic, he flipped out and took the baby.”

Lip quirked a brow. “Telling Ian to do something is never a good idea. That’s probably something you should know.”

Mickey narrowed his eyes at him, angered by the condescending nature of his comment. “What do you mean, not a good idea? You’re the ones who told me to do it.”

“We told you to talk to him about it, not to act like he didn’t have a choice,” Lip chided, his arrogance getting under Mickey’s skin.

“So what do we do?” Fiona jumped in. “Do you have any idea where he went?”

Mickey shook his head. “Phone keeps goin’ to voicemail. Could be on his way to Mexico right now for all I know.”

Svetlana’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to comment on the dreadful possibility but Mickey stopped her.

“Relax, he’s not goin’ to Mexico.” He rolled his eyes and glanced down at both phones again, making sure he hadn’t missed any texts.

“He knows nothing,” Svetlana said in disbelief, turning to Lip and Fiona. “No idea where to look except your house and club.”

“I can go to the club, talk to the guys he works with,” Lip offered. “Maybe they’ll have some ideas.”

Mandy lifted her shoulders and sat up straight, suddenly struck by an idea. “Remember Frankie Erickson? He works at a phone company. I can see if he can track the GPS on Ian’s phone. He owes me a favor.”

“Yeah, that’s good, and we can have Debbie call hospitals.” Mickey stiffened at Lip’s mention of hospitals, not wanting to consider that alternative. He could feel Lip’s eyes on him but he didn’t lift his gaze from the table. “Just to cover all our bases,” Lip added.

Fiona nodded, and Mickey didn’t understand why no one else was freaking out at the thought. “My shift starts in an hour but I can tell Sean what’s goin’ on, I’m sure he’ll be fine with me skippin’ out.”

“No, Fi, we got it. Go win the bread, we’ll all keep calling him. Yeah?” Lip directed his question at the rest of the room, and everyone nodded in agreement. “Alright, come on.”

As they turned to leave, Svetlana spoke up. “You see him like this before?”

Fiona and Lip exchanged a look, and Mickey turned away before their eyes could shift to him. He glanced over at Mandy instead, watching as she ran a hand over her damp hair. She met his eyes and bit her lip, both of them already aware of the answer to Svetlana’s question.

“Not really,” Fiona admitted. “It’s never been this bad that we know of.”

Svetlana pursed her lips, looking even more distressed than she had before, and Mickey let his eyes close for a moment as he sighed in frustration, wishing desperately that Fiona had lied instead.

Fiona gave Svetlana an apologetic smile and led the way out. Lip followed, turning to Mickey before he stepped onto the porch. “Just call us as soon as you hear from him, okay?”

Mickey gave a curt nod, bringing the phone up to his ear again as soon as Lip was out the door.

*

Ian set their items down as he looked over the selection of lottery tickets. “And a number five, please.”

The woman across from him punched his items into the register, fingers moving quickly over the keys. “Twenty-two forty.”

Ian pulled out his wallet, spilling its contents onto the counter. “Okay, so there’s five, ten, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, seventeen ten, seventeen twelve...” Ian dug deeper into his pockets, hoping to scrounge up a few more bucks, but he came up empty. He looked up at the cashier, who was eyeing him impatiently. “That’s not enough, is it?”

“No.”

“Okay, what if I take away this and this,” he mumbled as he pushed aside his chips and pop, and then the baby food when the cashier’s stare told him it still wasn’t enough. “Uh, can I just buy a couple of the diapers?”

The woman looked at him incredulously. “No.”

“Alright, if I just get the scratch off, how much will I have left for gas?”

“Twelve twelve,” she said slowly, looking from him to the whimpering baby in his arms.

“Okay, great, twelve twelve on pump four, please. And then I’ll just- I’ll just win enough on the scratch off to be able to buy this stuff, okay? Yeah, there you go, can I see that?” Ian pushed all the cash across the counter and held out his hand for the lottery ticket. He picked up one of his pennies, rubbing the edge furiously against the ticket.

“Okay, Yevvy, let’s see. Lucky numbers are sixteen, seven, and thirty nine. Man, those are not my lucky numbers. When I was little my favorite number was-”

“Sir,” the cashier cut him off, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Ian shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Right, right, um. No, it looks like we didn’t win. But that’s okay, that’s fine. We don’t need this stuff anyway, we’ll be in Florida soon, we can hold off until then.”

“Wait,” Ian heard from behind him. He turned to see a woman shouldering her way through the line. She approached the counter and handed the cashier a five dollar bill. “For the diapers.”

“Oh, wow, oh thank you so much, thank you, that’s really, that’s so nice of you, thank you.”

The woman smiled dubiously and threw a sympathetic look toward Yevgeny. “You’re welcome.”

“No, thank you so much. Yev, say thank you to the nice lady.” Ian laid the baby down on the counter and began to untie the sleeves of the shirt wrapped around his middle.

The cashier looked at Ian with wide eyes. “Um, sir, you can’t do that here,” she said quietly, her brow furrowed in bewilderment.

Ian hesitated and looked up, raising his eyebrows and waiting for the cashier to elaborate. She nudged the package of diapers toward him, and Ian stared in confusion before suddenly realizing the faux pas he had committed.

“Ah, right,” he said as he lifted Yev off the counter and tucked the diapers under his arm. “Okay, thank you, thanks, thanks again.”

They headed outside and Ian placed the baby in his car seat before putting the twelve dollars worth of gas into the car. He paced the length of the car as he watched the numbers on the pump climb, devising a plan under his breath.

When it reached $12.12 he replaced the nozzle and climbed into the car, starting the engine and squinting at the fuel gauge. “Okay, don’t think we’re going to make it to Florida on that. But don’t worry, little man. I got a plan.”

They headed off down the road and Ian pulled into the next parking lot he saw. He pressed his chin against the steering wheel as he looked out the window, scanning the city before him.

“See that store way up there?” he said to Yevgeny, pointing to a small building in the distance. “Kind of looks like the Kash and Grab, huh? Shouldn’t be too hard for me to take a few things, some food for us, maybe get some cash. I’ll check it out and report back. At ease, soldier.”

Ian smiled at the baby and rubbed a hand over his head before getting out of the car and wandering off down the street.

*

Fiona smiled at the table of customers, thanking them and clearing their plates. As soon as she stepped into the back, her smile quickly turned into a frown. She dumped the dishes into the tub next to the dishwasher and took out her phone, returning her missed call from Lip.

"Anything?” She braced herself, not expecting good news.

Lip sighed. “No, nothing. Got the manager to give me the phone numbers of all the guys Ian works with. About half of them actually answered my calls but they haven't seen him and didn't offer up any suggestions on where he could be. I'll keep trying the rest of them but I'm not getting the impression that he's real close with his colleagues.”

"Shit. You hear anything from Mickey?" Fiona leaned against the counter and ran a hand over her ponytail, her hair already beginning to frizz from the humidity.

"I just talked to him, no luck. He did give me the names and addresses of a couple of Ian's regular customers," Lip said, and Fiona cringed at the thought of some sleazy old men visiting the club nightly to see a scantily clad seventeen year old shaking his ass. "I mean, first names and general vicinities so it's not exactly the holy grail of information but I'll see if I can track them down."

Fiona frowned in confusion. "How's he know where they live?"

"He's gone to house parties with Ian, if you can believe that. Who knew they were Chicago’s number one gay power couple?"

“Huh.” Fiona raised her eyebrows and put a hand on her hip, intrigued but knowing she had to get back to work. “Alright, keep me posted."

“You got it.”

Fiona set the phone down and held her face in her hands, already exhausted despite the fact that her day had barely begun. She clasped her hands behind her neck and closed her eyes, trying to compose herself.

Sean spotted her from across the room and approached her, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he narrowed his eyes in concern. “What’s going on?”

Fiona shook her head. “My brother, Ian. He took off with his boyfriend’s baby and now he’s not answerin’ his phone.”

“You think everything’s okay?”

She scratched at the back of her neck before placing her hands on her hips and admitting what she hadn’t yet said aloud. “I think he’s reminding me a lot of my mom and that’s really scary.”

Sean nodded in understanding. “Do you need to go? We’ll be alright without you.”

“No, no. Thanks, but there’s not much I can do.”

“Okay. In that case, your big tipper’s been asking for you.”

Fiona nodded and swiped her finger over her phone as Sean walked away, letting it ring through to Ian’s voicemail once more before approaching Angela with a smile.

“Hey, nice seein’ you again. What pie will you not be eating this mornin’?”

“I think I’d like to waste a slice of the cherry today. You have a minute?” Angela asked, motioning for Fiona to sit down across from her.

Fiona looked around the diner before hesitantly sinking into the booth. “Uh, yeah. Okay. A quick minute.”

“You doing alright?” Angela nodded toward the back, suggesting that she’d witnessed Fiona’s obsessive phone calls.

Fiona chuckled. “That’s a loaded question. I’m gonna do you a favor and not even try to answer it.”

“Go on, I want to know. What, afraid you’re going to bore me?”

“Afraid I’m gonna send you runnin’ for the hills. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“Guy troubles?” Angela guessed, not letting Fiona off that easily.

“Not in the romantic sense.”

Angela slid her arms off the table and folded her hands in her lap, straightening in her seat. “Family?”

Fiona hesitated, unsure of how much she should divulge. “My brother kinda took off. We’re not sure where he went. Just worried about him.”

“I’m sorry,” Angela said, sounding genuine.

Fiona waved her off, hiding her concern. “I’m sure he’s fine. Had a fight with his boyfriend. He’ll come around.”

Angela nodded in acknowledgement, but her eyes implored Fiona to give her more.

“I gotta get back to work.” Fiona flashed her an apologetic smile as she slid out of the booth. “You gonna hang around for that pie?”

“I think I’m good for today.” Angela swiped a hand in her purse as she stood, coming out with a hundred. She pressed the bill into the table, locking eyes with Fiona as she walked past her and out the door.

Fiona shook her head as she pocketed the cash, still dumbfounded by the woman’s strange behavior. She took another table’s order before slipping into the back to make another call, this time to Debbie, tapping her foot impatiently as she listened to the rings.

“Hey,” Debbie answered, her tone not giving Fiona anything to go on.

“Hey, please tell me you found nothing?”

“No hospitals in the area have any record of him.”

“Thank god,” Fiona breathed, some of the apprehension leaving her body.

“Now what?” Debbie sounded scared and unsure, and it reminded Fiona how young she was. She could take charge and call hospitals and hatch plans with the best of them, but once in awhile she let her strength waver, revealing the child that she still was.

Fiona sighed. “I don’t know. Keep callin’ him, I guess. He’s been gone, what, a little over five hours? Did you cover every hospital that far away?”

“I’ll double check.”

“Thanks, Debs.” Fiona looked up to see Sean staring at her from across the dining room. “I gotta go.”

“Table six has been waiting on their drinks for ten minutes and table ten wants their bill,” Melinda threw out as she walked by.

One of the cooks nudged a plate that was sitting in the window behind her. “Order up, Fiona. It’s getting cold.”

Fiona glanced at the ticket, trying to remember what table the eggs benedict belonged to when she felt a hand on her bicep.

“Take a break,” Sean told her as he grabbed the plate and walked off to do her job.

Fiona hesitated briefly before taking Sean’s advice. She headed out the back, pushing her thumbs into her back pockets as she stepped into the sunlight and tried to suppress the rush of feelings she hadn’t been able to shake all morning.

She spun around when she heard the door open a moment later to find Sean looking at her with a blank expression.

“Ignoring tables, forgetting drinks?” He cocked an eyebrow and she turned her gaze to the ground. “That’s not like you. Seriously, if you need to leave-”

“I don’t, I don’t. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Fiona.”

She looked up at him with wet eyes, a sense of warmth spreading through her when she heard the worry in his tone. She took two steps forward, covering the ground between them in only a split second. Her lips pushed desperately against his as she held his face in her hands.

Sean grabbed her shoulders and broke the kiss, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”

Fiona reached a hand up to the back of her neck, rubbing at the taut muscles. “I don’t know. I just thought…” She shrugged, letting out a chuckle at her own stupid impulsivity.

"We can't do this. I know you're worried about your brother but this isn't..." he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ve got tables waiting. Are you here or not?”

“Yeah.” Fiona nodded adamantly, shaking herself out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m here.”

*

Ian sauntered casually down the sidewalk, smiling to himself as he thought through the plan in his head, mulling over the details of the store he’d cased. He ran a hand through his hair, humming cheerfully until the sight before him put a damper on his carefree mood. He began to run toward his car, where a small crowd had formed and a man was working a slim jim into the passenger door.

“Hey!” Ian called as he approached. “Hey, what are you doing?”

An officer turned at the sound of his shouts, standing between Ian and the car. “Sir, is this your vehicle?”

Ian ignored him, watching as another officer opened the back door and took Yevgeny in his arms. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from my baby!”

“Sir, calm down. We-”

“Calm down? Don’t tell me to calm down.” Ian looked past him, distressed by Yevgeny’s cries. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of him.”

He brushed past the cop and hurried over to Yevgeny, tearing him from the other man’s arms and holding him protectively against his chest. “What were you doing to him?”

The first officer approached, getting closer than Ian was comfortable with. “Sir, you cannot leave a baby alone in a car on a hot day.”

“Who sent you?” Ian stepped back, looking between the two cops wildly as he pulled the baby closer to him. “Did Jesus send you?”

“Sir, please calm down. We just want to talk to you.”

“I know what you are,” Ian panted, his heart pounding in his ears.

“Sir.” The officer reached out to touch his arm and Ian scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over the curb.

“No, don’t touch me. Stay away from me.” He turned his shoulder toward the men so that Yevgeny was shielded from them. He repositioned the baby in the crook of his arm and covered Yevgeny’s head with a clammy hand.

The cop took another cautious step forward, holding his hands up innocuously. “We’re just trying to help, okay? Please just-”

“No! No, I know what you are.” Ian panicked, feeling suddenly claustrophobic as they closed in on him, his fear intensifying with every inch of lost space. “Why are you here? You’re here to take my baby, aren’t you? Is that what you want?”

“Sir, we do not want to take your baby.”

“You’re lying,” Ian declared with certainty. “Jesus wants Yevgeny. You’re trying to take him. He sent you here to take him.”

The officers exchanged quizzical looks, concern evident on their faces. “No, sir, I promise you-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Ian looked at them with wide eyes as he tried to think fast. “Get away from me!”

He turned quickly on his heels and began to sprint, hearing the sounds of the officers’ feet hitting the pavement behind him. Yevgeny shrieked at the sudden movement and Ian wrapped his arms tightly around him as he ran across the street.

When he reached a store, Ian flung the door open without looking behind him. The customers glanced up at the jingling of the bell on the door, all of their eyes on Ian as he scanned the room for a place to go.

He stumbled through the aisles, knocking down a shelf as he turned a sharp corner. He ducked when he heard the bell on the door jingle again, peering over the shelf and watching the three cops file in. They spotted Ian instantly and he stumbled back, crashing into another shelf and causing Yevgeny’s screams to grow louder.

Ian grabbed a box of candy off the shelf and threw it at the men who were rapidly closing in on him. He turned around frantically, searching desperately for a way out. When he realized he was cornered, Ian threw another box but it didn’t seem to hinder them one bit.

“No, get away from us!” Ian pleaded as he backed into the corner. He slid down the wall and cradled Yevgeny in his arms, guarding the baby as he rocked nervously on his heels. He could feel the hot tears streaming down his face as he closed his eyes to the world. “Please, leave us alone, please.”

*

“Alright, shithead. This is like the two hundredth time I’m callin’ and you not pickin’ up, I’m starting to get fuckin’ homicidal. Call me the fuck back, Ian.”

Mickey’s voice wavered as he left what felt like the hundredth message on Ian’s voicemail. He fidgeted in his chair as he let out a shaky breath, the pounding of his heart unsettlingly prominent.

“I’m worried about you. I love you,” he confessed, his desperation overtaking any filter he once had. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, his stomach doing somersaults as he heard himself acknowledge his feelings aloud. “Call me back.”

Mickey placed the phone on the table and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, taking a deep breath. He could feel the tears prickling his eyes and he blinked them back, sniffing as he lit a cigarette, noticing the tremble of his hands as he held the flame in place.

He startled when he saw Svetlana leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed. Mickey wasn’t sure how long she’d been watching him, but the spiteful look she had been giving him for the past five hours was gone, leading him to believe that she’d heard his admission.

“What?” he snapped, tone brusque to compensate for the emotion he had just displayed.

“I know you are worried about him. But he is grown man. I am worried about small, helpless baby.”

Mickey sighed and rolled his eyes. “He wouldn’t let anything happen to the kid,” he assured her confidently, believing it himself.

“He is crazy. He is not thinking right.” She tapped an index finger against her temple as she walked further into the room, grabbing her phone off the table. “No way to know what he will do. We need to call police.”

“No, no- fucking give me that.” Mickey sprang to his feet, yanking the phone out of her hands. “You call the cops, I’m gonna tell them I said Ian could take the baby on a trip. Who you think they’re gonna believe? Illegal, Russian handwhore or card carrying, apple pie eating, born on the fourth of July American fuckin’ citizen?”

“I am his mother,” she spat, baring her teeth at Mickey’s protests.

“Yeah, and what am I?” he pointed out, cigarette dangling between his fingers. “You forget he’s just as much mine as he is yours?”

Svetlana laughed incredulously. “When was last time you got up with him in middle of night or held him for more than two minutes? You don’t know what it means to be parent.”

“Hey, I do my fuckin’ part.” He stood tall, stepping forward so that their faces were only inches apart.

Svetlana accepted the challenge, looking Mickey in the eye as she scowled. “Baby is missing and you won’t call police because you don’t want Orange Boy to get slap on wrist. You are shit father.”

Mickey felt sucker punched, unable to deny the harsh truth. “Well they don’t know that,” he retorted, struggling to keep his expression from giving away the sting of Svetlana’s words. “And they got no reason to believe you over me.”

Svetlana’s chin quivered, and Mickey felt a small pang of guilt. He retreated, sitting back down and glancing anxiously out the window.

“No cops, okay?” He spoke gently this time, taking a drag from his forgotten cigarette.

Svetlana pulled her lower lip into her mouth, teeth scraping against the skin as she turned her back to Mickey. He watched as she paced to the far end of the kitchen, trying to control her temper. When she reached the wall she turned and strode back to the table, fingers wrapping around the back of the chair across from Mickey in a firm grip. Her jaw was clenched tightly but her eyes were soft and pained; it was as if she wanted Mickey to see what this was doing to her, every emotion that was coursing through her body.

Mickey shifted his gaze, disconcerted by the sight of his normally stoic wife now beside herself with worry. He put out his cigarette and hastily lit another, sitting tensely in the fraught silence until Svetlana spoke.

“The scare of your heart you feel for Ian? I feel that ten times more for my son.” She shuffled with some things in her purse and Mickey swore she was blinking back tears, but when she looked up at him again her face was void of any emotion. “I have meeting with people who want me to be surrogate. I want my Yevgeny back by time I get home, or I call cops.”

Mickey sat back and watched as she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked out the door, lacking the energy to argue with her any further. He picked up his phone again, opening his messages to make sure he hadn't missed a text. Nothing.

He pulled himself out of the chair, his limbs feeling like dead weight, and dragged himself over to the couch, collapsing heavily onto it. He clutched his phone against his chest and struggled to keep his eyes open. The adrenaline rush from the morning had subsided, leaving him feeling empty, and the exhaustion was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He didn't realize he had drifted off until a knock at the door woke him suddenly. He stood up, heart racing as he walked over to the door and squinted out the window to see Carl standing on the porch.

Mickey let him in, offering a "the hell are you doing here" as a greeting. He hurried to check his phone, afraid he had missed something while he slept, but when he looked at the time he realized he had only been out for a minute and there was nothing new on his screen.

“Trying to burn your house down?”

Mickey looked up at Carl's strange question and followed his gaze down to the floor in front of the couch, where his cigarette was singeing the rug.

“Oh, shit.” Mickey stomped it out and left it buried in the carpet. He yawned and stretched an arm as he made his way into the kitchen.

Carl stepped further into the living room, eyeing the luggage and its contents still strewn about the house. “Still nothing from Ian?”

“No.” Mickey grabbed three beers from the fridge, handing one to Carl and setting another on the coffee table before settling in on the couch.

“Saw some stuff like this with my mom, Monica,” Carl told him as he pushed a pile of clothes out of the way to make room for himself on the couch across from Mickey. “Pretty scary. One time she climbed to the top of our roof, thought she was a bird.”

Mickey ran his fingers over the can in his hand, thrown off by Carl’s disclosure. “She jump?”

“Nah, firemen came and got her down. Did a lot of weird stuff like that, though.”

Mickey nodded slowly, his stomach sinking as it dawned on him that Svetlana was right; he had no idea what Ian might do.

“Debbie couldn’t find him at any hospitals so he’s probably okay,” Carl added, clearly sensing Mickey’s worry.

Mickey’s jaw tightened as he tried to push the thoughts out of his head. He cracked open his beer and took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and drumming his fingers against the can to fill the hush that had fallen over the room.

Carl took a swig of his own beer and broke the silence. “Lip said Ian left ‘cause you were gonna take him to the clinic?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Cause of this?” Carl looked around the room at the remnants of Ian’s luggage scheme.

Mickey let out an empty laugh. “I wish.”

“He try to fly off the roof too?” Carl joked, pulling one side of his mouth into a small smile.

Mickey sat his beer on the table in front of him and looked down at his hands, a finger tracing over the lines of his palm. “Some sick fuck at the club offered him a few hundred bucks to be in a fuckin’ porno.”

Carl’s eye’s widened, caught off guard by the revelation. “Ian did porn? Man, I thought if we ever had a porn star in the family it’d be Fiona.”

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just forget I said anything, alright? Probably shouldn’t be tellin’ you this shit.”

“I won’t say anything,” Carl assured him. “Lip and Fiona don’t need to know, right? They got enough to worry about.”

Mickey nodded, grateful that Carl understood his need to keep this conversation between them. “I said somethin’ to him about needing money before but,” he paused, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I didn’t think he’d ever do somethin’ like this. Fuck some random guy on camera because a stranger offered him money? Who the fuck agrees to that?”

Carl’s expression turned somber. “When my mom was on the roof Debbie was outside crying, telling her to come down, but she didn’t listen. Debbie wouldn’t talk to her for like a week after that. But Ian told her that Monica didn’t mean to scare us, ya know? She just did stuff like that when she was sick and didn’t know it was hurting us.”

Mickey looked at Carl earnestly, understanding what he was trying to get across. He bounced his knee as he stared down at his hands again, a stiffness creeping into his neck and shoulders.

Mickey downed the rest of his beer and crushed the can, tossing it across the room before opening the other. “We’re out of beer, so nurse that shit.”

“Got weed if you want it.” Carl picked up his backpack and unzipped it, revealing its contents to Mickey.

“Jesus Christ, what is that, a couple pounds? You’re selling now?”

Carl sat the bag back on the floor and smirked proudly. “Yeah, got a job with G-Dogg’s crew.”

“G-Dogg, huh? Guy’s a fuckin’ tool but he runs a tight ship. Sells decent shit, too.” Mickey paused for a moment, looking down at the bag again and chewing his lip thoughtfully. He ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the light stubble scratch against his fingers as he contemplated his place.

“Alright, I’m gonna do you a favor and let you in on the three most important rules every good salesman should know. And rule number one,” Mickey said as he pointed toward Carl’s open bag, “is don’t sample the product.”

“Yeah,” Carl said in agreement. “Eats into profits.”

“Yeah, that and your supplier will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat.” Mickey sat back and kicked a foot up onto the coffee table, relaxing as he settled into the distraction of the more comfortable conversation. “Rule number two, never carry your whole stash with you. Idiots think they’ll save time by keeping everything on them but the second you get jumped or busted you’re fucked.”

Carl leaned forward and listened intently, hanging on Mickey’s every word.

“And rule number three, know your product. Nobody’s gonna buy from you if they catch you bullshittin’ them, so do your research.” Mickey took a drink and switched the can to his other hand, wiping the condensation on his jeans. “You got all that?”

“Got it.” Carl gave a short nod and sipped his beer. “Might not get the chance to use it though if Fiona stays on my ass about it. She noticed there was too much money in the squirrel fund and busted me.”

“You’ve just been putting it in the coffee can?”

“Yeah.” Carl shrugged, obviously not seeing the flaw in that plan. “Figured she wouldn’t ask. Who complains about extra cash?”

Mickey shook his head at Carl’s naivety. “Nah, man. You gotta keep it separate. Start your own stash. And not under your bed or some stupid place like that. Somewhere she won’t find it. Use it to pay the bills once in while, she’s got too much shit goin’ on to notice if you play it smart.”

“I guess,” Carl said slowly, brow furrowed in thought. “But I’m gonna have more than enough to pay one bill a month.”

“So come home with all of it one day and tell her you did a one time job with a big payout. Somethin’ realistic that wouldn’t piss her off too bad. Do that every couple months and you’ll stay in the clear.”

“Sweet, I can do that.” Carl smiled, looking at Mickey like he was a genius. “Thanks.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” Mickey smirked and cocked an eyebrow as he brought his beer to his lips. “You’re smart, kid. You just might make it out there.”

Mickey’s heart jumped at the sound of his phone vibrating, beer dripping onto the front of his shirt as he pulled the can away mid-drink. He fumbled with the phone and glanced down at the screen, disappointed when he saw Lip’s name.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, just got a call from Terre Haute PD. They picked up Ian and the kid,” Lip informed him, and Mickey’s breath hitched in his throat. “I’ll be at your place in five, be ready to go.”

“Okay.” Mickey shoved his phone in his pocket as he rose quickly to his feet, suddenly feeling very awake.

“Lip’s on his way here. Cops called, they got Ian and Yev.” He set his beer on the coffee table and switched it out for his lighter and pack of cigarettes before looking over at Carl. “Where the fuck’s Terre Haute?”

*

Fiona’s shoulders sagged as she pushed open the front door, dragging her feet across the threshold. She found Liam lounging on the couch, enthralled by whatever cartoon was flashing across the TV screen.

“Hey, sweetface.” She sat down on the couch and pulled him into her lap, squeezing him tightly and planting a kiss against his temple. “You have a good day?”

Liam tore his eyes from the TV and nodded, grinning widely at his sister. “We called doctors.”

“Yeah?” Fiona struggled to return the smile, feeling guilty that the four year old already knew the pain of calling hospitals to find a family member. “Bet you were a big help, huh?”

“Yeah, Debbie used her phone and I used my phone, see?” He held up a piece of cardboard with numbers drawn on it, probably something Debbie had thrown together when Liam saw her making calls.

“That’s great, buddy. Good job.”

“But Ian wasn’t at them,” Liam informed her as he flicked at her earring.

Fiona poked him playfully in the side. “Hey, that’s okay, you know why? We found him. We’re gonna go get him and you’re gonna stay here with Vee, okay?”

“Can I come see Ian?”

“Well, ya could, but can I tell you a secret?” She was prompted to continue by Liam’s eager nod. “Vee’s been a little sad lately and I don’t think she wants to stay here alone. Can you do me a favor and stay here with her?”

Liam sighed dramatically as he rolled off Fiona and shifted his gaze back to the TV. “Okay.”

“Knew I could count on you.” Fiona smiled and got to her feet, shaking her head as she walked into the kitchen to find Debbie stirring a pot on the stove, an empty box of mac and cheese on the counter.

“Hey. Carl home?”

Debbie glanced over her shoulder and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Went to Mickey’s. Vee’s upstairs.”

“Okay, I’m gonna get changed. You coming with us?”

“Yeah,” Debbie replied solemnly as she grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard. “Liam, food’s ready!”

Fiona paused at the foot of the stairs, troubled by her sister's closed-off demeanor. “Debs, you okay?”

Debbie glared at her like the answer was obvious. “The cops picked him up, Fiona.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean anything yet.” Fiona stepped forward, brushing Debbie’s hair away from her face. “Try not to worry too much until we see what’s goin’ on, okay?”

“I already see what’s going on.” Debbie frowned, Fiona’s words evidently having no effect on her. “Seen it before, right?”

“Yeah,” she muttered as she watched Debbie retreat into the living room.

Fiona climbed the stairs, pulling her shirt over her head as she walked into her bedroom, interrupting Veronica as she dumped a laundry basket full of clothes onto the bed.

“You do my laundry?” she asked, tossing her Patsy’s Pies shirt on the floor.

Veronica grabbed a few shirts off the bed, pulling a dresser drawer open and throwing them in. “Figured I should earn my keep here.”

“Vee, you do not have to earn your keep.”

“I know. Don’t get used to it,” she retorted as she stuffed the drawer full and slammed it shut before opening the one beneath it. “So, they found Ian?”

“Yeah.” Fiona nodded, putting her hands on her hips. “Cops brought him in, not sure why, we didn’t get many details. You mind watchin’ Liam while we’re gone? I think the kids wanna come.”

“Yeah, of course. How you holdin’ up? You look like shit.”

“I don’t know.” Fiona sighed, sliding her hair tie over her ponytail and running a hand through her loose hair. “I keep fuckin’ up, Vee. I just keep fuckin’ everything up.”

“Please, this was not your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop Ian from runnin’ off.”

“I knew he was showin’ signs of bipolar. We’ve seen the shit Monica pulled. I should’ve been expecting somethin’ like this.” She sat down on the bed, pulling one leg up while the other dangled off the side. “Tried to fuck my boss today.”

Veronica raised her eyebrows, only appearing to be slightly surprised at Fiona’s confession. “Again? Damn, daddy issues ain’t no joke.”

“I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I was stressed and goin’ crazy with worry and I just went for it. And he totally blew me off.”

“Thank god,” Veronica said as she folded the laundry. “You don’t need to be messin’ around with anymore of those dreamy, seductive scumbags who are only gonna cause you problems.”

“Yeah, except now instead of being the girl who fucked the boss, I’m the girl who tried to fuck the boss. Which one sounds better?”

Veronica lifted a challenging brow. “You really want me to answer that?”

Fiona held up a hand to signal that she wasn’t done recounting her woes. “Oh wait, it gets better. On top of all that, Carl’s dealin’ drugs and Debbie’s havin’ sex.”

“They’re doing  _what_?” Veronica climbed onto the bed and gave her full attention to Fiona. “Where the hell have I been?”

“Well, I don’t think she’s havin’ sex yet but she’s well on her way. She’s been actin’ out lately. Doesn’t help that her friends are little bitches and the kids at school are makin’ fun of her.” She sighed, sifting through the pile of laundry to find something to wear. “And Carl, I don’t know. He’s such a good kid, ya know? He’s tryin’ to help out with the bills, bankroll the squirrel fund. But Jesus, gettin’ involved in that shit is the last thing he needs.”

“Teenagers sound like a goddamn blast; you’re a saint for putting up with them. I might have to peace out before the girls hit that age.” Fiona threw her a concerned look, but Veronica shrugged it off. “Kidding, I think. Besides, we’re not talking my childrearing issues right now. Go on with your bitching and moaning, let it all out.”

“Oh, let’s see, what else? Lip’s supposed to be headin’ back to school tomorrow but with this Ian shit,” she trailed off, shaking her head at the overwhelming list that seemed to never end. “And he’s worryin’ about money for us when he should be worryin’ about money for him and I’m so fuckin’ scared he’s gonna find a way to get himself kicked out of school or lose his scholarship so he can wind up back here and be a full-time ghetto dad again.”

“Shit, Fi,” Veronica breathed, brushing her knuckles over Fiona’s knee. “I didn’t even think about how much you guys must be struggling, losing two incomes.”

“Been thinking about finding another job so we can be a step above barely scrapin’ by. Maybe one that doesn’t involve being hit on by guys whose sweaty t-shirts don’t quite cover their beer guts. But I can’t even keep up with everything as it is. And with my shiny new criminal record I’m never gonna find anything that provides even the slightest bit of financial security. Oh shit, speakin’ of that...” She glanced at her watch, cursing when she remembered what day it was. “I’m supposed to be meeting with my PO in about twenty minutes. I’ll have to call and cancel. Fuck, that’s just perfect.”

“So this is what I have to look forward to, huh?” Veronica mused as Fiona stood, slipping out of her shorts and pulling on a pair that weren’t covered in diner food. “The screamin’ demons sucking the life and money out of me for the next eighteen years?”

“Probably longer than that.”

“Shit. I was hopin’ this was the worst of it.”

Fiona snorted as she threw on a tank top. “Not even close.”

“Fuck me,” Veronica groaned. “At least Liam seems to be doing good. One out of four ain’t bad.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes skeptically. “Liam spent the day making pretend phone calls to pretend hospitals to make sure his big brother wasn’t dead.”

Veronica shrugged, nonplussed. “Yeah, well, in this family he should probably get used to it.”

*

When they pulled up to the police station, Mickey was out of the van before Lip had put it in park. He left the door open behind him for Carl and Debbie to follow as he made quick strides toward the building, not bothering to see if the Gallaghers were matching his pace. He rubbed nervously at his chin, resisting the urge to sprint. When he was only a few steps away from the front door of the station he felt someone grab his forearm, bringing him to a halt.

“Hey, Mickey, listen,” Lip said as Mickey spun around to see what the hold up was. He watched as Lip exchanged a glance with Fiona. “Look, things are bad, alright? And they’re going to keep getting worse. We gotta talk him into checking himself into a hospital before he really goes off the deep end, okay?”

“I know.” He watched Lip’s eyebrows rise in surprise, having clearly been anticipating an argument from Mickey.

“He needs to be evaluated,” Fiona elaborated. “Needs to go somewhere and stay there for a few days so they can watch him. We can take him there tonight. You okay with that?”

“Tonight?” Mickey furrowed his brow, looking at the two of them like they had lost their minds. “Jesus Christ, he just spent five hours in a goddamn holding cell. How about you give him a fucking day. Let him sleep in his own bed, eat a meal or two for fuck’s sake.”

“There’s no point in puttin’ it off,” Fiona pressed, pulling her jacket closed as a cool wind picked up. “And it might be best if he goes in while he’s still in the middle of an episode.”

“And you don’t know what he could do next,” Lip added. “He might get up in the middle of the night and jump off your fucking roof. Or maybe he’ll refuse to get out of bed tomorrow. This disorder’s completely unpredictable.”

Mickey shared a glance with Carl as he tried to suppress his mounting panic. “You guys already made up your minds. Why you actin’ like it matters if I say no?”

Lip sighed, doing little to hide his frustration. “He’s never going to agree to it if you’re telling him he doesn’t have to.”

“Me tellin’ him he had to is what got us into all this.”

“Mickey-” Fiona started, but Mickey held his hand up as he interrupted.

“Look, I’m in, alright? Now can we please stop standin’ here with our dicks in our hands?”

“Yes, please,” Debbie groaned, pushing past them impatiently and heading inside.

When they reached the front desk, Fiona was the one to speak up. “I got a call about my brother, Ian Gallagher?”

The officer at the desk nodded, sticking his thumbs in his belt. “Yes, I’m Officer Hahn, I was the arresting officer. Does your brother have a history of mental illness?”

Mickey bit his lip as he looked at the downcast expression on every Gallagher’s face.

“Yes, he does,” Lip said, resting an arm on the desk.

“I figured as much. He left a baby locked in a hot car.” Mickey cursed under his breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly to keep the new rush of nerves at bay as Officer Hahn continued. “When we found the car and saw no one around, we took the liberty of getting the baby out. When Mr. Gallagher returned and saw what we were doing, he became very unruly and was behaving irrationally.”

“Irrationally?” Lip asked, glancing at Mickey out of the corner of his eye. “How so?”

“It seemed he was seeing something else. He, uh, he asked if Jesus had sent us.”

Mickey shuffled his feet, shifting his weight as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. He looked at Fiona when she let out a humorless chuckle, her fingers finding Debbie’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Thought we were trying to steal the baby so he ran off,” Officer Hahn added. “We took him to the ER, gave him a sedative. That seems to have calmed him down but it’s clear he needs some help. You’re aware of this?”

Fiona nodded assertively, blinking back the tears that lined her eyes. “Yes, sir. We’ll be gettin’ him some help.”

Mickey scratched the back of his neck, nails digging in a bit too hard as he felt his patience wear thin. “Is the baby okay?”

“He’s fine. A little shaken up, maybe, but he fell right asleep as soon as we got here.” Mickey let out a small sigh of relief as Officer Hahn turned back to Fiona. “Now, the baby is your brother’s, correct?”

Mickey folded his arms over his chest and swiped his tongue over his lower lip, staring at the desk as he spoke. “No, he’s mine.”

“And who are you in relation to Mr. Gallagher?”

“His boyfriend.” The officer raised a questioning brow and Mickey continued, feeling like every eye in the room was on him. “Ya know, family?”

“So I take it you won’t be pressing charges for kidnapping?”

“Kidnapping?” Mickey spat incredulously. “No, fuck no. He always watches him.”

“Alright, well, I do advise you to keep an eye on Mr. Gallagher when he’s with your son from now on.”

“He loves him,” Mickey growled defensively, any acknowledgement of truth in the officer’s words buried beneath instinctual anger at what he was implying. “He wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I mean no disrespect and I’m not saying he’d do any intentional harm. But Mr. Gallagher left your baby alone in a car on an eighty-five degree day, and then ran through the streets while carrying him with complete disregard for his surroundings.” Officer Hahn frowned sympathetically and Mickey dropped his chin to his chest, an uneasy feeling settling over him as he stared at his feet. “I’m just trying to give you all the pieces to the puzzle, son. Do with it what you will.”

“Ian’s not under arrest, right? He’s free to go?” Lip jumped in, saving Mickey from having to listen to any other parenting advice from Officer Know-It-All.

“He’ll have to face some charges, and the car went to impound. It’ll take a few days for that to be processed and he’ll have to pay the tow charges. But we’re not going to hold him.”

“Thank you, Officer. Can we see him now?” Fiona asked, finally getting around to the question Mickey had been anxiously awaiting.

Officer Hahn nodded and gestured to a row of chairs in the corner. “You can wait right over there. I’ll go get him.”

They sauntered over to the waiting area, Mickey occupying the end chair next to Debbie. He moved restlessly in his seat, continuously peering down the hallway that Officer Hahn had entered and feeling sick in anticipation. When he turned to glance at the Gallaghers, Debbie gave him a look of understanding. Mickey sighed in response and forced his leg to stop bouncing, feeling suddenly vulnerable under the bright lights.

When he turned to look down the hallway again, Mickey saw red hair bright against the pale walls. He jumped to his feet, causing a domino effect as the Gallaghers glanced up and followed suit.

Mickey stood frozen as they came closer, his stomach churning at the emptiness of Ian’s eyes and the vacant expression on his face. He looked beyond exhausted, a whole new level of tired that Mickey never wanted to see again. It seemed Officer Hahn’s hand on his back was the only thing keeping his feet moving.

Fiona threw her arms around him as soon as he reached them. “Hey, you. You okay? So happy to see you.” She placed her hands gently on his arms as she pulled back, ducking her head as she tried to meet his eyes. “You ready to go? Yeah?”

Lip stood next to them, squeezing Ian’s shoulder supportively. “Hell of a day, huh?”

Ian seemed to look straight through him, his expression unchanged. Fiona and Lip locked eyes, speaking volumes through their gaze as they stepped aside to let Debbie and Carl in.

They smiled timidly as they approached, each snaking an arm around his back to hug him. Debbie murmured a “missed you” into his ear as she rested her chin on his shoulder and Ian blinked his reply.

When Carl and Debbie retreated Mickey sprung into action, unable to stand idly by any longer. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat and shuffled forward, plastering the most genuine smile he could muster on his face.

“Hey,” Mickey whispered, not sure it was audible to anyone but himself.

He brought his hand up and placed it lightly against Ian’s jaw, feeling himself go dizzy at the contact. Ian’s eyes blinked up to meet his, only for a moment, and Mickey nuzzled his temple against his cheek.

He wrapped him in a tight embrace, overcome with relief by the solid feeling of Ian safe in his arms. Mickey inhaled sharply as he squeezed him before letting him go, turning to see Officer Hahn approaching with Yevgeny lying against his shoulder.

“You got lucky with this one, he’s a good kid,” the officer said as he transferred the baby to Mickey. “Makes me wish my kids were that age again. They really do grow up in the blink of an eye. Don’t blink, son.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mickey said quietly. He clutched Yevgeny close to him, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of the baby’s face against his cheek. He let out a shaky breath as he looked from Yevgeny to Ian, both here with him, yet their problems were nowhere near solved.

“Want me to take him?” Debbie asked, holding out her arms. Mickey placed a soft kiss on the baby’s head before handing him over to her.

“Alright, you ready?” Fiona rubbed Ian’s arm and didn’t wait for his response. “Let’s head out.”

“Hey, you tired?” Mickey asked softly. “Come on.” He slipped an arm around Ian’s back and guided him toward the door, Fiona and Lip leading the way and Debbie and Carl trailing behind.

Mickey climbed into the van first, scooching towards the window as Ian collapsed onto the seat beside him. Debbie and Carl slid into the back as Fiona and Lip sat in the front, Lip making no move to start the engine.

“Hey, Ian?” Fiona turned to face him, looking at Mickey to make sure he was still on board with the plan. Mickey looked out the window and bit his lip, hoping she took that as confirmation. “We were thinkin’ we could stop by the hospital on our way home. You could stay there for a few days and they can make sure everything’s alright. Maybe make you feel better. More like yourself.”

“It’ll help,” Lip said. “We’re just looking out for you, little brother. That’s my job, right?”

Ian stared at his hands and Fiona raised her eyebrows at Mickey, prompting him to say his piece. “We’ll be waitin’ for ya when you get out.” He placed his hand on the back of Ian’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. “Won’t be for that long, it’ll go by quick.”

Yevgeny let out a soft whimper from Debbie’s arms, and Ian conceded. “Okay,” his voice cracked as he gazed out the window.

“Okay, great.” Fiona smiled at him reassuringly as they pulled out of the parking lot. “We’ll head to the hospital then.”

Mickey watched as Ian blinked slowly, fighting sleep with every fiber of his being. “You can sleep, man. It’s a long drive. If you’re lucky you’ll miss out on hearin’ Carl’s fucked up version of 99 bottles of beer on the wall.” Mickey smiled, hoping to get some small reaction out of Ian, but his expression remained blank as his eyelids became heavier, and he finally rested his head against Mickey’s shoulder and slipped into unconsciousness.

“So how’s this work?” Mickey asked when he was sure Ian was out.

Lip met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “The hospital?”

“Yeah, what are they gonna do? How long’s he gonna stay? We gonna be able to visit him?”

“I’m not really sure.” Fiona sighed as she propped her elbow against the door and rested her head in her hand. “We’ll find out when we get there, I guess. Monica checked herself in before but it’s been awhile. Besides, she usually bailed before we got a chance to see what it was all about.”

“So we’re just droppin’ him off and hopin’ for the best?” Mickey spat, growing increasingly uneasy with the idea.

“It’s a hospital,” Debbie chimed in from the backseat where Carl was already snoring lightly. “They gotta know what they’re doing, right?”

“Well, what if he changes his mind when he wakes up?”

Lip rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Then I guess you’ll have to lay on your charm again.”

Mickey sighed, pulling out his phone to text Mandy and Svetlana, letting them know they were on their way home. It vibrated almost instantly with Mandy’s reply.

_Thank fuck. I’ll make a late dinner. He ok?_

Mickey bit his lip as he dropped his phone onto his lap, not bothering to tell her that he wasn’t okay and that he wouldn’t be joining them for dinner. He shook his head regretfully as he stared out the window. “Should’ve- I should’ve made him go to the clinic. A long time ago,” he added, the words getting caught in his throat. “Could’ve avoided this whole shitshow.”

“You did okay, Mickey,” Lip said after a beat, his tone surprisingly genuine. “You tried. That’s a lot more than most people would do.”

Mickey sniffed, quickly wiping away a few tears that had managed to fall from his eyes. He placed a hand on Ian’s leg, rubbing his thumb slowly over his jeans and cherishing the sensation of Ian’s weight against him for as long as he could.

*

“We just need a signature here, Mr. Gallagher.” The nurse’s voice was soothing, barely disrupting the peace in the otherwise silent room, and she wore a welcoming smile, probably seasoned in the practice of lulling people into a sense of security. Ian took the pen she was offering and managed a small smile in return.

He held the pen unsteadily over the paper, still jittery from exhaustion and the apprehension that had been looming over him ever since he woke up in the hospital parking lot. He felt Lip rest a hand on his back in encouragement, and Fiona pointed to the X where he needed to sign.

Ian glanced over at Mickey who stood in the corner behind him, watching intently from afar. He nodded at Ian, telling him this was what he needed to do, and when Ian took a look at Yevgeny he didn’t feel he was in any position to argue. He scribbled his name quickly and dropped the pen to the clipboard, jumping at the click of plastic on plastic in the dead silence of the room.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he stepped back, leaving Fiona and Lip to chat with the admitting nurse in hushed tones. He started toward the row of plastic chairs where Debbie and Carl were seated with grim expressions on their faces.

“Who died?” he muttered, aiming for blithe humor but coming up short, his voice scratchy and pathetic. But their moods seemed to visibly lighten despite his unconvincing tone, both of them smiling and relaxing their shoulders.

“Don’t let them cut out part of your brain,” Carl said as he nudged Debbie. She rolled her eyes but Ian chuckled, grateful for the normality. He swallowed down his smile as he crouched down so that he was at eye-level with Yevgeny, reaching out to stroke his thumb over the baby’s cheek.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Gallagher.” Ian turned to see a nurse standing at the gate waiting for him, the door hanging open to parts unknown. The reality of the situation became all too apparent, causing Ian’s brave face to slip. He kissed Yevgeny quickly and turned away, hoping Carl and Debbie hadn’t noticed the sudden change in his demeanor.

Fiona was in front of him immediately, blocking his path. She cradled his face in her hands and looked him in the eye before giving him a quick hug. He reciprocated by pulling a hand out of his pocket and wrapping his arm around her waist, doing the same to Lip a moment later when his brother enveloped him and patted him confidently on the back.

He stepped past them both, hearing their footsteps follow close behind as he continued toward the door. Ian’s eyes flicked up to Mickey as he approached him, hesitating briefly before looking away in shame and brushing past him without a word. His heart rate increased with each step he took as he neared the entrance.

“Fuck, Ian, wait.” Mickey’s fingers wrapped around Ian’s bicep, forcing him to turn around. Ian dropped his head, feeling unworthy of the concern on Mickey’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Ian shook his head at the ground, unable to suppress the warm tears prickling at his eyes. He was caught off guard by Mickey wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of Ian’s neck. He felt Mickey’s tears hot on his skin and squeezed his eyes closed as he was hit by a deep pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry,” Ian sobbed, the quiet words muffled by Mickey’s shoulder, but when Mickey ran a soothing hand along his back he was sure he’d heard them. Ian clung to him, the pads of his fingers pressing deeply into Mickey’s skin, feeling anchored by his firm hold. He evened out his breathing as Mickey carded a hand through his hair, pulling away only when he knew he had no choice.

“Can I go in with him?” Mickey asked the nurse, his hand kneading the back of Ian’s neck. Ian looked at her expectantly, hopeful despite already knowing the answer.

She looked at them apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until visiting hours.”

Mickey left him with a quick kiss before squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll see ya soon,” he whispered, and Ian sniffled in response, composing himself as he stepped out of Mickey’s grasp to cross the threshold.

The nurse closed the gate behind them and Ian glanced through the grate at the somber faces lined up on the other side of it. He contorted his face into what he hoped could pass for a carefree smile, offering a small wave before following the nurse down the hallway.

His face fell when he was sure he was out of sight, mouth pulling into a taut frown as they marched further and further away from the door. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry as he glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings. His footsteps echoed as he begrudgingly moved forward, putting one foot in front of the other, the woman walking alongside him making him feel no less alone.


	6. Like A Tired Machine

Ian rolled onto his side and groaned, feeling the toll of lying on his back all night in the same position. He pulled the thin blankets up around his neck and reached out, his hand blindly searching but finding nothing but empty bed.

"Rise and shine,” a strange voice crowded into his head. He blinked, squinting his eyes and holding an arm up to shield them from the fluorescent lights flickering above. He flinched back when two feet landed with a thud in front of him, while two men clambered out of the other bunk bed across the room. They all formed a scraggly line at a small cart, taking turns throwing back the contents of little cups with swallows of water.

Ian propped himself up on an elbow, eyes widening as he took in his stark surroundings. There was nothing more than two sets of bunk beds, two small metal cabinets with drawers and four walls. Everywhere he looked was white, white, white. "Where am I?”

"Cook County Psych Unit. You came in last night." A man who blended in perfectly with crisp white pants and a white pullover squatted down next to his bed. He smiled and checked the name band on Ian’s wrist before offering him a small plastic cup with two pills in it.

Ian stared down into the cup, having to remind his arm to move and push it away. He quickly sat up to swing his legs off the side of the bed, almost toppling over.

“Whoa!” The man in white steadied Ian’s shoulders for a moment before tentatively letting go. “Take it slow, alright? You're still a little wobbly.”

Ian fought weakly to free his limbs of the sheet still tangled around him, glancing over at the other men, all pulling on yellow shirts and gray sweatpants. He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog from his brain. “This is a mistake. I don’t belong here.”

“Take it up with the doc, you’ll see her later today. But for now, you’re stuck with us.” The man gestured over his shoulder to Ian’s roommates, beginning to whisper among themselves. “I’m Roger, you’ll see me here during the day and you’ll have Eric overnight, but you already met him.”

Ian blinked slowly, trying to place the name with a face but not remembering much about the night before, and not so much before that either.

“You have clothes in here that were issued to you.” Roger rapped his knuckles on the top of one of the two cabinets pushed against the wall. He pulled a drawer open, revealing two pairs of sweatpants tucked next to three yellow t-shirts that matched the ones everyone else seemed to be wearing. “You're second bunk so you have the second dresser, you’re bottom bunk so you have the bottom drawer.”

Ian picked at the unfamiliar white t-shirt he was wearing, pulling it away from his skin. “Where are my real clothes?”

“Storage. Don't worry, they're safe. You’ll get them back."

“When?”

“When you leave. 72 hours."

Ian furrowed his brow, eyes searching for the door. “I need to go now. Mickey's waiting for me, and Yevgeny.”

Roger brought the pills back over, crouching down again to eye level. “I don't know who Mickey is or what a Yevgeny is but like I said, you're here for 72 hours. You think you can take these?"

"What are they?" Ian eyed the contents of the medicine cup with distrust.

"Your meds," Roger said, his face softer as he held them a little closer.

Ian shook his head and pushed the cup to the side, his eyes welling up with tears that he felt too empty to form.

Roger stood again, leaning against the top bunk and speaking in a soothing voice. “I can't make you take them but they’ll get them in you one way or the other, might as well make it the easy way.”

Ian dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. "I want to see Fiona."

Roger sighed, walking over to place the untouched medicine back on the cart. “Visiting hours aren't until 1. Maybe they'll come see you. Why don't you go with the guys and get some breakfast. It's french toast today. You like french toast, don't you?"

Ian looked around, his gaze drawn to the door again before dropping down into his lap. He fidgeted with the flimsy bracelet, his fingertips tracing over his name before spinning it around his wrist, over and over again.

*

“Stop! I’m just gonna keep taking it back out.”

Mickey wrinkled his forehead at the sound of his sister’s yelling, scrubbing his face against the pillow in an attempt to wake up. He sat up and opened his eyes, burning and bleary from too much everything and too little sleep. He startled at a movement in his peripheral vision, not remembering that he had brought Yevgeny in with him a few hours before.

The baby wiggled his chubby legs and arms for only a moment before settling back against his blanket and sighing deeply. Mickey smoothed some ruffled hair down on his head, a strange kind of peace settling over him when Yevgeny jutted his chin out and began sucking in his sleep.

“You can’t do this!”

Mickey groaned, forgetting about the commotion that had woken him up. He rolled out of bed and pulled a tank on as he stumbled into the kitchen. Svetlana had a garbage bag in one hand and a pair of Ian’s camouflage pants crumpled in the other, Mandy’s hand wrapped around her forearm and fighting for them back.

“Ay, knock it off, you’re gonna wake the baby up. Took me two hours to get him back to sleep.”

Svetlana scoffed, forfeiting the pants to Mandy but turning to grab a sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair. “You bring baby back then steal from my room in middle of night? You’re no better than boyfriend.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, pushing past her and making a beeline for the coffee pot. “He was fuckin’ cryin’ all night. I was doin’ you a favor.”

“Ah, yes,” Svetlana sneered, moving out of Mandy’s reach and shoving the sweatshirt down into the bag. “You’re father of year now. Want cookie?”

Mickey ignored her, nodding to Mandy. “The fuck is her problem?”

Mandy crossed her arms over her chest, her lips twisting into a scowl. “She’s packing up all of Ian’s stuff.”

Not in the mood to play referee but seeing no other choice, Mickey took a sip of coffee and set his mug down. He snatched the bag from Svetlana’s grasp, rummaging through it and seeing almost all of Ian’s things. “Why you packin’ this shit? He doesn’t need it at the hospital.”

“He’s moving out.”

“She’s saying he has to move out.”

Both women spoke over each other and narrowed their eyes.

Mickey cocked an eyebrow and looked between them. “He’s not moving out, he’ll be gone for like three days and then he’s coming back.”

“He stole baby!” Svetlana pointed to Mickey’s bedroom door accusingly.

Mickey took a deep breath and held his palms up as he spoke slowly and deliberately. “Relax, everything is fine. The baby is back, safe and sound.”

Svetlana stepped towards him in challenge, hand on her hip. “It could happen again.”

“It’s not gonna happen again,” Mickey said firmly, trying to keep his cool.

“Because he doesn’t live here anymore.” Svetlana stated like it was a fact, her jaw tightening as she approached Mickey and swung her arm out, unsuccessfully trying to hook the bag.

Mandy huffed but tried to speak calmly and reason with her. “You can’t just kick him out, he’s sick. He can’t help that he’s sick. Would you kick him out if he had cancer?”

“If cancer makes him steal baby, yes!”

Mandy threw her arms up in exasperation and Mickey flung the garbage bag down. His patience already paper thin, he closed the little distance left between them, his voice climbing in volume. “Well you know what? The way I see it is you’re freeloadin’ here, so if you don’t like it, the front door is plenty wide for you to walk the fuck out and find somewhere else to live.”

As if Yevgeny understood the conflict happening, a demanding cry echoed from Mickey’s bedroom.

"Fuck," Mickey muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he backed away.

Svetlana rushed into Mickey’s room to retrieve Yevgeny, coming back out and gesturing to his little face, tear streaked and red as he continued to scream. "See, you father of year." She cradled him over her shoulder, rubbing and patting his back as she soothed him in Russian.

“He doesn't even know what the fuck you're sayin’,” Mickey snapped, unable to resist.

Svetlana glared at him, turning on her heels and slamming her bedroom door.

Mickey paced the small kitchen a few times, trying to process yet another problem. “I hope he cries all fuckin’ night for her. I ain't doin’ shit.”

Mandy sighed, opening the fridge and pulling out a takeout container from her work. “I brought home omelets for everyone. Guess we have an extra now.”

“Not hungry,” Mickey said, grabbing a cigarette from a pack laying on the counter.

Mandy opened the box and stabbed one of the omelets with a fork, dragging it into a skillet to warm it up. “You going to see him today?”

Mickey exhaled a stream of smoke, feeling at least a little better as he leaned back against the counter by the stove. “Yeah. Pickin’ up Fiona later and goin’ together.”

“I have to work again tonight but I really wanna go see him, maybe I can tomorrow,” Mandy said, impatiently watching her food. “What was he like? You know, when you picked him up.”

“A fuckin’ zombie.” Mickey swallowed, trying to push away the helpless feeling that accompanied thinking about Ian. He hit his cigarette again, watching Mandy poke a finger into her eggs. “Not talkin’, slept the whole way home in the van, wouldn’t really look at anyone.”

“He’ll be better soon though, right? After they give him meds?”

“Yeah.” Mickey thumbed at his lip, trying to convince himself. “Yeah, he’ll probably be better today and back to normal in no time.”

*

Fiona pushed herself out of bed, slamming the alarm on her phone on the way. She stretched her arms into the air and yawned before sorting through some clothes on the floor, holding them up until finally settling on her least wrinkled jeans and a pullover.

Hearing a dull hum, she peeked into Debbie's room to find her sister already dressed and crouched in front of a small mirror on her dresser.

"You're up early," Fiona said, raising her voice to be heard over the hair dryer. "You excited about startin' high school?"

"Just want my hair to look good." Debbie directed the stream of hot air back and forth over a section of hair, pulling it taut and curling the ends around a brush before letting it fall around her shoulders.

Fiona leaned against the door jamb, loosely crossing her ankles. "Probably takes less time now that it's shorter, though." She admired Debbie in the mirror, her gaze landing on the dark shadows under her eyes. "You tired from yesterday?"

Debbie shrugged, fighting to properly reach a section of her hair with the brush. "I'm fine. Are you gonna come sign me out of school early so I can go with you and Mickey to see Ian?"

"I don't know, Debs. It's the first day."

Debbie flicked the dryer off and tossed her brush down in frustration, opting to pick up a pink tube of gloss and work on her lips instead. "The first day is a waste anyway. All they do is hand out books and go over the syllabus. I'll literally miss nothing."

Fiona sighed, walking over to pick up the brush and run it over Debbie’s hair a few times before pulling a section up and grabbing the hair dryer. “I know but maybe just wait 'til tomorrow. I think it’s going to be a rough day for Ian.”

“All the more reason for me to be there,” Debbie said, her attitude gone as her eyes pleaded with Fiona’s in the mirror.

Fiona continued to dry her hair, thinking it over. “Okay, I already have Jackie takin' Liam to the park with her little girl while I go. Might as well take you while that’s covered.”

Debbie’s mouth pulled into a wide smile that had Fiona content to be the reason.

“Call and double check visitin’ hours for me. I’m pretty sure they were 1 to 2 but most of last night is such a blur.”

Debbie nodded, putting the final touches on her face with some mascara.

“All done.” Fiona put down the brush and dryer, licking her fingers and smoothing some stray pieces of Debbie’s hair into place.

“Eww, oh my god!” Debbie ducked away, horrified. “Don’t put spit on me!”

Fiona laughed, turning her head when she heard the door creak open.

“I’m ready,” Liam sung out, wearing a monkey hat, swim trunks, and a t-shirt that was two sizes too small, riding up and baring the bottom of his belly.

Fiona eyed him head to toe, puzzled by the ensemble. “Ready for what?”

“To ride the school bus,” Liam said with excitement. “Got my backpack, too.” He turned to point to a lopsided plastic bag he had rigged, one handle hanging from each of his shoulders.

Fiona and Debbie exchanged a look, trying to remain straight faced while suppressing their giggles.

“Liam, buddy, Head Start doesn’t start until next week,” Fiona said, walking over to slide the twisted bag off his arms. “And even when it does, I think we can find you a better get up for your first day than this.”

Liam’s mouth puckered into a pout as he crossed his arms. “Carl said it was the first day of school.”

“You talked to Carl?” Fiona asked, looking down the hall to see the door to the boys’ room hanging wide open.

“He’s leaving now.” Liam pointed down the stairs before adding seriously, “He doesn’t ride the school bus.”

Fiona took off, racing down the front stairs just in time to see Carl heading for the front door.

She hooked her fingers behind the straps of his backpack, dragging him back a few steps. "Hold up, C-Dogg, don't think I forgot about our little talk.”

Carl plowed forward, freeing himself of her grip. “Never said I thought you did.”

She grabbed the bag again, unzipping it and delving a hand down into the main compartment. Carl watched her over his shoulder, grunting with impatience. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Checkin’.” Fiona squeezed all the smaller pockets and patted it down.

“Checking for what?”

“I think you know, smart ass.” Fiona nudged him away when the impromptu raid left her empty handed. “They double the sentence and fines for sellin’ or holdin’ in a school zone.”

“Only if you get caught,” Carl said, walking away with half a smile.

“Hey,” Fiona snagged his arm, her tone more stern. “You better be here when I get home from work tonight."

Carl nodded silently, looking everywhere but at Fiona.

“Tonight.” She squeezed his bicep, digging her nails into his bare skin.

“Alright, alright.” He rolled his eyes and jerked his arm away to adjust his backpack and straighten his shirt. “Debbie! Let’s go!”

“Wait, I’m gonna make breakfast.”

“No time. Debbie wants to get there early to see Derek.” Carl brought his hand up to his cheek, batting his eyes. “She’s trying hard to get out of the friend zone.”

“Shut. Up.” Debbie stomped down the stairs, Liam on her hip.

Fiona raised her brows as she looked at Debbie, who was dressed in a skirt and flowing shirt with her makeup finished perfectly. “That why you’re so worried about how you look today?”

“No.” Debbie swung Liam over the couch, setting him down on the cushions then smoothing down her skirt. “Well, maybe a little.”

Carl snorted. “You’re not even on his radar.”

“Carl,” Fiona chided.

“What?” he objected innocently. “I’ll tell you what, Debs, pay attention to how he acts. If he punches you in the arm, he thinks you’re friends. If he squeezes it, he likes you.”

Fiona nodded her head, lolling it side to side in consideration. “I hate to say it, but that’s probably good advice.”

“Not you, too,” Debbie whined, finding her backpack and pulling out a mirror to check her makeup one last time.

Fiona pushed Debbie’s hair back off her shoulders, leaning down so they were face to face. “Just be yourself around him, that’s the best advice.”

Debbie bit her lip, but gave Fiona a small smile and nodded.

“Did you call about visiting hours?” Fiona asked.

“Shit, yeah. You’re right, they’re 1 to 2 but I can’t go.”

Fiona’s face fell in confusion, the corners of her mouth turning down. “Why not? I thought it was important to you.”

“It is but they said you have to be sixteen. Can you just tell Ian that I wanted to come but couldn’t?”

Fiona turned to see Liam watching them all, head popped up over the couch. “Alright, will do. I’ll see you after school, and don’t forget, I’ll need you to watch Liam ‘cause I’m working the dinner and evenin' shift.”

“Okay,” Debbie yelled over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

“And Carl,” Fiona continued loudly.

“I know!” Fiona heard the annoyance in his voice even though she couldn’t see him.

“I’m hungry,” Liam grumbled, throwing a leg over and hanging off the back of the couch. “Make me oatmeal.”

“You’re hungry, huh?” Fiona asked, crossing her arms and eyeing him expectantly. “How do you ask?”

“Make me oatmeal, please.” Liam exaggerated the last word, stretching out the one syllable.

“Sure,” Fiona smiled and took his hand, helping him down.

*

“Okay.” Lip double checked the list of room assignments and looked up. "Which one of you is Karlson with a "K"?"

A meek redhead slowly raised her hand while her mother glared at Lip, waiting for the announcement.

"You can stay," Lip said, trying not to make eye contact as he turned towards the other girl. "Carlson with a "C", you are actually in the Van Houten Towers, West 208, just past Gardner Hall. You can’t miss it."

Carlson huffed, looking exhausted and her father didn't fare much better, taking over Karlson's mother's job and scowling at Lip.

Lip shrugged, closing the binder of room assignment lists. "Sorry, I'm just the messenger. You guys good?"

Despite the misunderstanding, everyone nodded, Lip taking it as his cue to leave.

He made his way down the crowded hall, busy with arriving students and some forlorn, some downright excited parents. He spotted a body coming towards him, the person's head and face obscured by the upside down kayak they were wearing as a hat.

"Hey, watch it would you?" Lip snapped, moving out of the way, but not before he was clunked in the head by one of the oars dangling from the side.

"Sorry," a voice echoed inside the boat.

Lip shook his head, ducking into his room for shelter from the madness. He threw the book binder next to his computer and looked up at Amanda where she was standing on his mattress, obscuring the mural she insisted on painting. "I just had some freshman’s dad show me how to stab his kid with an EpiPen if he gets stung by a bee. Hope he stays inside."

"Just wait until later this afternoon when all the long distancers get here. That’s when the party will really start," she said sarcastically, not taking her attention away from her brush strokes. "And I have to add, you’re the one that wanted to be an RA."

"Not wanted to, had to. Free room and board, plus stipend."

"You could have moved in with me," she countered quickly.

Lip leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “No stipend.”

“I’m better than a stipend," Amanda said coyly, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Lip was too mesmerized to keep arguing, gaping at the half painted, yet fully nude, voluptuous woman adorning the wall behind his bed. “Jesus, what's she weighing in at? A buck ninety, two hundred?”

Amanda clicked her tongue and turned around, one hand on her hip and the other still poised with a paintbrush. “Renaissance women weren't forced to starve themselves into an anorexic fashion industry marketing version of female sexuality.”

Lip considered the mural thoughtfully. “Yeah, I bet it was purely missionary for them, though. Getting caught under that would be like stepping on a grape.”

Amanda took a step back on the bed, eyeing her creation. “I think she's perfect, and there’s nothing wrong with missionary.”

Lip raised an eyebrow and smiled, pulling his phone out and checking it for any messages. Sighing when there was no notifications, he tossed it on the desk.

“No word?” Amanda asked, turning her focus back to stippling and shading her Renaissance woman's breasts.

Lip rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet. Visiting hours just started not that long ago, guess I should give it a bit.”

“What are you worried about?"

“I don't think he was doing that great, he was out of it." Lip recalled seeing how exhausted Ian had been and how he'd barely said a few words before they left. "I just wish I could've talked to him, tried to figure out where his head was at."

"That's what he's there for, though. They'll help him figure everything out."

“Ehhh, I don't have much faith in the hospitalization route, but then again, Monica's my only example and she never followed it through.”

Amanda gave him a sympathetic look, leaning over to swirl then drop her paintbrush in a jar of water by the bed. “You think he will?”

“I don't know. That's kind of what I'm worried about." Lip scratched at the back of his neck, almost wincing at the thought. "I think if we can keep Mickey on the line, it'll be a lot easier.”

"Classes haven't even started yet and you're already too stressed. You know what you need?" Amanda asked suggestively, dropping to her knees on the mattress and freeing the first few buttons on her blouse.

Lip raised his brows, walking to meet her at the edge of the bed. "No, but I'm very interested in finding out."

"Let's take advantage of no schedules." Amanda leaned up, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat.

"Yeah?" Lip slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"No classes," Amanda added before moving to kiss the other side. "No commitments." Lip dropped his hands, palming at her ass while she licked a path up to his ear and whispered, "And have vagina sex."

Lip’s hands lifted off of her as he backed away, not expecting to hear such a suggestion. “That's like, that’s kind of a big deal for you, right? I mean, what changed?”

“You are such a commitment phobe," Amanda smirked, hooking the waistband of his shorts and reeling him back in to pop the button. "I already said, no commitments.”

“No, no, no." Lip mentally kicked himself for protesting too much, knowing she'd see right through it. "I’m just curious.”

“Isn’t that what college is all about? Keeping yourself open to new horizons? And," Amanda paused, lowering her voice and touching her forehead to his. "Try not to freak out about this, but I like you.”

“You like me?” Lip asked smugly, allowing her to pass the buttons of his shirt through and peel it off his shoulders.

“Just shut up,” Amanda ordered, stripping off her blouse and wiggling out of her shorts.

Lip chuckled, pressing their lips together and reaching around her back to unhook her bra. He helped her slide it down her arms as he shuffled onto the bed, steering her backwards and pushing her into the pillows.

Amanda shifted, her hands coming up to tilt Lip's face and deepen the kiss before pulling back. "I'm gonna need you to warm things up first."

"Alright." Lip eagerly kissed her again, licking along her bottom lip and groaning when she sucked his tongue into her mouth. He skimmed his fingers down her bare skin, sliding between her legs to rub the heel of his hand against her panties.

“And remember what I said last time," she added breathlessly. "Move around some, no sense in having a tongue as nice as yours if you’re not going to spread the wealth down there.”

Lip shook his head at the backhanded compliment, but began his descent anyway, stopping to lick and nip at her breasts before settling between her legs.

Lip slid her panties off and hooked her legs over his shoulders, kissing her inner thighs and smiling at the gasp when he licked over her and slid his tongue between her folds.

He pushed in further, feeling himself harden and twitch when she arched up, pressing her warmth and wetness back against his mouth. Spreading her apart, he dove in deeper, lapping and sucking while reminding himself to keep his tongue traveling over every inch. He glanced up when Amanda hummed above him and ran her fingers through his hair, her face relaxed in contentment. Knowing he stumbled onto something good, he stiffened his tongue and moved his mouth more aggressively, but felt her tense up and edge away.

“Too much, Lip. Keep it moving.”

Lip raised his head, out of breath, to see Amanda peering down at him, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “You know, I did do this before I met you. Never had any complaints.”

Amanda tightened her grip on his hair, shoving his head back down between her legs. “You can do something a thousand times, doesn’t mean you’re good at it.” She shifted her hips, lifting them a little to grind back against his face as she continued her lecture. “Don’t get touchy, how are you supposed to improve if you can’t take constructive critic-” Amanda’s words were cut short when Lip took her advice, dragging the tip of his tongue up to circle around her clit a few times before flicking it back and forth. “Fuck, right there, stay right there.”

Lip internally rejoiced and preened at the praise, reaching up to knead her breasts and brush his thumbs over her hardening nipples. He continued to lave over her and return his tongue to that spot at the end of each lick, waiting for her sharp inhale of breath as he teased her clit mercilessly. When she was satisfactorily writhing underneath him, he pulled off to suck and kiss at the crease of her thigh, smiling against her skin when she groaned and tried to tug him back over by his hair.

Lip lifted his face up, wiping his chin. “Thought you wanted me to keep moving around,” he deadpanned.

“Ugh, just get up here,” Amanda ordered, pulling on his arm.

He crawled up over her, connecting their lips and moaning when she shoved her hand down his already unbuttoned shorts, stroking and squeezing his cock.

Amanda broke the kiss and panted, ”You want me to return the favor?”

Lip shook his head, pushing down his shorts and kicking them off the side of the bed. “Nah, I’m good. I mean if you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Amanda reached into the nightstand, feeling around for a condom and pressing it into his hand.

Lip exhaled a shaky breath as he tore the package and rolled it on, his nerves getting the best of him for some reason. “You sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” Amanda said, spreading her legs and winding them around his waist as she pulled him closer and kissed his neck. “You’re so nervous. It’s kinda sweet.”

“Do you want me to just go for the glory, or do you wanna-” Lip's voice trailed off, not admitting or denying her claim.

She reached between them, scrunching her face in concentration and guiding him in with one hand while the other curled tightly around his shoulder. Lip’s mouth dropped as she eased him in, the tight heat around him proving to be pleasantly overwhelming. She leaned up for another kiss, the frame of her glasses bumping into his nose.

Lip reared back, sliding them off her face before tossing them on the nightstand and going back in, licking into her mouth and groaning as she lifted her hips.

“What?” Amanda asked skeptically, circling her arms around his neck. “You don’t have one of those hot for teacher fantasies?”

“Not really.” He pulled out slowly, licking his lips and holding his breath as he pushed back in. “And besides, what’s the point of doing it face to face if I can’t see your face?”

Amanda’s mouth pulled up in a warm smile. “I knew you liked missionary.”

*

Mickey leaned against the back wall of the elevator, wiping away the moisture that kept accumulating around his hairline.

"He'll probably be out of it. First day's always the worst." Fiona glanced over her shoulder at him. "He might be really sleepy or not make any sense or-"

"Okay, okay. I got it." Mickey held up a hand, begging her to stop with the unsolicited pep talk she'd been offering since he picked her up.

"Sorry.” Fiona hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder and began to sway back and forth. They both turned their sight to the lighted display, watching the numbers tick higher the closer they got to their destination. “Just tryin’ to help. Freaked me out the first time I saw my mom here.”

Mickey’s shoulders dropped a little, letting out a breath he’d been holding. “When was that?”

“When I was eight,” Fiona answered just as the bell chimed, signaling their arrival.

“Jesus.” Mickey followed Fiona out of the elevator, the clack of her boots echoing throughout the hall.

“We’re here to see Ian Gallagher.” Fiona swung her bag up on the counter at the nurses' station and dug around for her wallet.

“I’m going to need IDs.” The nurse behind the desk straightened her glasses and collected the cards, scribbling the information onto a form. Pausing at the last space, she glanced up. “Relationship to the patient?”

“Sister.”

She filled in the last blank and looked back up at Mickey. “You?”

“Uh, boyfriend,” Mickey said quickly, fighting a nervous twitch of his mouth when he caught Fiona grinning at him out of the corner of his eye. Not wanting to make it a big deal, he took his ID back and shoved it into his wallet.

The nurse slid two visitor badges across the counter, tapping them with her finger. “Keep these visible at all times. Visiting hours are until 2 and you can travel anywhere within the perimeter of the hospital.”

Mickey held the badge out, his fingers swiping over the hospital logo. He searched his clothes, feeling unnecessary anxiety about finding the right place to put it, and finally clipped it onto the front of his jeans pocket.

“We recommend that conversations stay light and upbeat,” the nurse added and pointed them around the corner. “Through the security gate, a guard on the other side will escort you to the rec room.”

Mickey let Fiona take the lead, focusing on not absorbing the sights and sounds around him. The door buzzed open and then there it was, the heavy click of the lock when it closed behind them, a sound that had already replayed in his head all night.

They walked behind the guard, through one hall then down another, Mickey making note of every turn and landmark the deeper they got into the unit.

The guard opened a door, waving his arm across the open room. "Just have a seat anywhere. They'll let him know you're here."

The room was large and bright, drawing Mickey’s eyes to the windows which were barred and caged. “Place feels like a fuckin’ jail,” he murmured to Fiona as they settled onto a few chairs in the corner. “It’s kinda wiggin’ me the fuck out.”

“It’s only for their safety.” Fiona gave him a tense smile as she glanced up at the window and sat back, crossing her legs. “But, yeah, I feel ya.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Mickey growing irritated by watching Fiona nervously bounce her foot. He fared no better, compulsively biting at his nonexistent nails.

Fiona uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Mickey, how the fuck did we get here?”

Mickey shook his head, looking to her like the answer should be obvious. “In my car?”

“No, with Ian. Lip said you called him awhile back but you just wanted more info. You said Ian was fine, and so did he. Every time I texted him, he always texted me back and seemed good.”

Mickey exhaled a deep breath, running his palms down his thighs. “I don’t know, it started awhile ago, but I didn’t think it was anything big.”

“What started awhile ago?”

“Just, _him_ , acting crazy. He’d stay up all night and clean the whole house, or try to fight Mandy’s boyfriend who’s two times the size of both of us. Last week he stole a ton of suitcases and filled the house with so much shit we couldn’t see the fuckin’ walls.”

Fiona looked away, an inscrutable expression falling over her face. The door opened, causing Mickey’s attention to snap back to the present and look over to see if it was Ian. It was only a man in all white walking towards them, his shirt bearing the same logo as Mickey’s visitor badge.

“You’re here for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey sat up straight and squared his shoulders at the question. “Yeah.”

The man sat on the chair next to Fiona, holding out his hand. “I’m Roger, Ian’s nurse.”

“I’m Fiona, his sister,” Fiona said, shaking his hand and nodding over to Mickey before continuing. “And this is Mickey.”

Mickey shook the hand Roger was offering but eyed him suspiciously, wondering why they were getting the welcome committee.

“Good, good,” Roger said. “Ian’s been asking about both of you. He’s on his way down but I just wanted to touch base before your visit.”

“Is he okay?” Mickey blurted out, desperate for reassurance.

“He’s fine.” Roger smiled in a way that almost had Mickey relaxing before continuing. “But he woke up a little confused and was asking to leave.”

“Shit,” Mickey mumbled under his breath.

“That’s really not that uncommon. It’s my understanding he was a voluntary, but he came in still moderately sedated after a psychotic episode?”

“Yeah,” Fiona agreed with a glance at Mickey, who suddenly felt incapable of talking after hearing Roger describe Ian so clinically. “He took off with Mickey’s son and was picked up by the cops in Indiana.”

Roger nodded, turning his attention to Fiona after Mickey failed to respond. “Right. So to be unsure about waking up in a strange bed in a strange place is pretty normal considering the circumstances. Also, he refused any meds this morning but finally agreed just before lunch, so you’ll notice he’s still a bit fuzzy. That’ll get better with time.”

“Did he see a doctor?” Fiona asked.

“Not yet. We moved it back so that he would hopefully be a little more alert when he meets with Dr. Beard. He’s in good hands with her, she’s one of the best psychiatrists we have.” Roger clasped his hands together, glancing between Mickey and Fiona. “You guys have any questions?”

“Just.” Mickey stopped, clearing his throat when the word came out broken and small. “Just, when can we see him?”

The door opened again, all of them looking over to see Ian, eyes wide and shuffling into the room. “Looks like right now.” Roger stood and walked past Ian, patting his shoulder and pointing him to the corner where Mickey and Fiona were sitting.

Mickey rose to his feet, automatically making his way over to Ian, unaware that Fiona had beat him to it until she cupped Ian’s cheeks and pulled him down to her.

“How ya doin’, sweetface?” Fiona combed Ian’s hair back with her fingers and looked him over.

“We going home?” Ian inched into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder. Mickey shifted his weight, self conscious about gawking at them but even more alarmed by Ian’s pallor and dazed appearance.

“In a couple days.” Fiona whispered in his ear, giving him a final squeeze before pulling away and gesturing to Mickey. “Look who came to see you, it’s Mickey.”

Mickey took it as his cue, smiling wide to mask his uncertainty as he stepped forward. He gripped Ian's shoulders and wrapped his arms around him. Ian didn’t react, just let himself be guided into the embrace.

“Hey, man.” Mickey fought the wavering in his voice, even as Ian stood there, motionless and silent in his arms. “How ya doin’?” Mickey squeezed tighter, wanting Ian to acknowledge him, but letting him go when it didn’t happen.

They all stood there awkwardly until Fiona threaded her fingers with Ian’s and led him over to the chairs. “Let’s sit down.”

“Yeah, let's fuckin’ sit down.” Mickey scrubbed at his chin when Ian mindlessly sat down on the table instead of a chair.

“You hangin’ in there?” Fiona asked, tilting her head in an effort to meet Ian’s eyes.

"Mmhm,” Ian hummed, looking around her and watching a couple patients play ping pong.

“How’s the food?” Fiona asked, glancing to Mickey for reinforcement.

“They had french toast,” Ian said with no real inflection.

“Was it good?” Mickey asked, watching Ian’s eyes dart back and forth over the ping pong table before sliding over to meet Mickey’s face.

“Where's Yevgeny?"

Fiona spoke up when Mickey found himself mute, caught up in staring at Ian's once vibrant eyes that now seemed dark and dull. “He’s at home and he’s doing good. Right, Mickey?”

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian to glance over at Fiona, picking up on her insistent tone.

Mickey nodded his head with forced enthusiasm. “Yep, yep he’s great. Was babblin’ about something when I left today. You’ll see him soon, when you come home.” Mickey licked his lips at the last part, which was probably a lie. He searched Ian's face for some hint of cognizance but it was blank, his eyes glued on something right past Mickey's shoulder.

Ian turned, pivoting his whole body toward Fiona before he spoke. “I think I wanna go home with you.”

Mickey sucked in a quick breath. Unable to keep his hands from clenching, he sat back a little and pushed them down to his sides.

Fiona looked at Mickey apprehensively, scooting to the edge of her seat and resting her hands on Ian’s knees. “We can do that, okay?” She spoke quietly, her face leaning down to catch Ian’s gaze, which had fallen to the ground again. “When you come home in a couple days, you can stay wherever you want.”

Ian closed his eyes, tilting his forehead to rest against Fiona’s before suddenly rising to his feet and walking away.

Fiona stood up and called after him. “Where you goin’? We just got here.”

“I’m tired.”

Mickey chewed his lip while Ian said something to the guard before disappearing through the door, never looking back. Mickey ran his hand down his face, muffling a tight laugh as he shook his head.

Fiona reached down, hand brushing his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yep, I’m great. Just great.”

“You’re doin’ good, Mickey. It’s just the sedation. Remember I told-”

“I gotta get out of here.” Mickey shouldered past her. “I’ll be in the car.”

“You know your way out?” The guard stopped Mickey, hand to his chest.

“Left, left, right, left at the gate,” Mickey rambled off, trying to get through the doorway.

The guard nodded, moving aside and out of Mickey’s path. Mickey walked swiftly, passing all the landmarks he had committed to memory on the way in. Once through the gate, he tossed the badge on the counter and bolted down the hall, passing up the elevators in favor of rounding the corner and following the signs for the stairs.

Down two flights and he finally stopped, his lungs heaving and his eyes wet as he slumped against the concrete wall.

*

“Right in here,” Roger opened the door to a small corner room with a few overstuffed chairs and a loveseat. “Sit wherever you want, she’ll be here in a minute, okay?”

Ian nodded, scratching his arm and opting to sit in the middle of the loveseat, then switching to one of the chairs instead.

“I’ll see you when you’re done,” Roger added, smiling before he walked down the hall. Ian looked out the window, the unimpressive view offering nothing more than the buildings adjacent to the hospital.

“Ian Gallagher?”

Ian turned to see a woman wearing a white coat with a hospital ID badge hanging from her lapel. He tried to read it at the same time she introduced herself.

She held her hand out and he reluctantly accepted, grasping it weakly and shaking. “I’m Dr. Kathy Beard, one of the staff psychiatrists here. Thought we could sit down and talk.” She picked the chair directly across from Ian and settled in.

“Don’t you have an office?” Ian asked, unsure why he even cared, but every doctor he knew of had an office. Doctors were supposed to have offices.

She didn’t hide her amusement, tucking a file beside her and smiling. “I do, but I think it’s more comfortable in here. If you want to see it, we can meet in there next time.”

“Next time?” Ian asked skeptically.

“We’ll see what happens today,” she said, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. “So, how are you feeling this afternoon?”

“Better,” Ian replied confidently before adding, ”Even better than a few hours ago. Not so foggy.”

“That’s good. Real good. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

Ian’s eyes fell to the floor as he considered the answer, but then slid back up to her face, the truth not being so hard to admit. “Because my family thinks I need to be here.”

“Do you think you need to be here?”

Ian shook his head with no reservation, looking her straight in the eye.

“Why does your family think you need treatment?”

“They think I’m like our mom.”

“Meaning?”

Ian hesitated before glancing at the wall and mumbling, “She has bipolar.”

“What was that like for you? Growing up with a parent who had that?”

Ian shrugged, not sure how to answer the question. “She just did a lot of crazy sh-, I mean stuff.”

“It’s okay,” she assured, waving the blunder off with her hand. “I’ve heard the word shit before. What kind of stuff?”

“Oh, you know. She’d lie in bed for weeks, then all of a sudden throw a big party in the park. Or start twenty projects around our house then just leave them. She would take us on shopping sprees, then a couple days later dump us on the corner to go buy drugs.” Ian swallowed at the memories, surprised they came out so easily, especially one in particular. “She tried to kill herself at Thanksgiving.”

Dr. Beard’s eyebrows rose a tiny bit, but she corrected them, her expression showing more concern than surprise. “That must’ve been really difficult for you.”

“It’s alright,” Ian brushed off what felt like pity. “I have sisters and brothers, we all look out for each other.”

“That’s nice that you have that support system,” Dr. Beard said, sliding her file onto her lap and patting it. “I have some admitting notes here that I was looking over before our appointment, some paperwork you filled out last night.”

“I didn’t fill anything out,” Ian said, eyeing the thin folder.

Dr Beard opened the file and pulled up a few pages, seemingly searching for something. “Says here Phillip Gallagher supplemented your patient history. Is that one of your siblings you were speaking of?”

Ian nodded, vaguely remembering Lip filling out a bunch of forms in the waiting room but having no knowledge of what he had written.

“Do you think you’ve ever been depressed?” Dr. Beard asked, her voice genuine.

Ian took a deep breath, hating the existence of that word. “I don’t know. Maybe once or twice. Everyone gets depressed, right?”

“A lot of people do, yes. Do you remember when or how often you felt like that?”

Ian scratched at the back of his hand, not looking up when he shook his head.

Dr. Beard read from a page. “Your brother wrote that last year you dropped out of school and wouldn’t get out of bed for a couple weeks. He also wrote that the same happened this past spring. Do you feel that’s true?”

Ian shifted in his seat, his fingers sliding to play with the hem of his shirt. “Sounds about right.”

“There’s more recent things in here as well. May I share some of them with you?”

“I guess.” Ian glanced up at her for only a second, growing more uncomfortable with the turn in conversation.

“You were taken into custody by the police in Indiana?” She looked up, waiting for confirmation from Ian. When he nodded, she continued. “You left a baby, your boyfriend’s baby that you took without consent, unattended in a car for twenty minutes?”

Ian bristled at the accusation. “I watch Yev and he goes places with me all the time. I don’t need consent to take him somewhere. And it wasn’t twenty minutes anyway.”

“How long was it?”

Ian’s mind replayed the incident, but he couldn’t place his finger on how much time had elapsed from when he left Yevgeny and when he saw the cops. The more he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure of the day. Getting frustrated, he answered, his irritation seeping into his voice. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t twenty minutes. I only walked up the street and back. I could see the car the whole time.”

Dr. Beard slid a pen from her pocket and jotted a few things in the file before looking up again. “Why did you take the baby to Indiana?”

Ian’s gaze dropped. “I just-” he stopped, struggling to describe the feeling he had, the urge to take off when Mickey confronted him. “I just had to get out of there. We had to get out of there, right then.”

“Did something happen that made you want to leave?”

Ian shrugged, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Did you have an argument?”

Ian took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and deciding to divulge the abridged version. “I stayed out all night, did some stupid shit with someone. Mickey was pissed.”

“Mickey’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Dr. Beard uncrossed her legs, sitting back and writing more in her notes. She glanced up, offering Ian a kinder smile before speaking softly. “What do you think about us running some STD tests while you’re here? Just a urine and blood sample, no weird stuff.”

Ian quickly looked away, not wanting to think about the implications, but gave another shrug that ended with a tiny nod.

Dr. Beard licked a finger and flipped through a couple pages again. “I know it’s been a long day but can we touch on Indiana again?”

Ian remained silent and rubbed the back of his neck, growing tired of the questioning.

“Looks like the police reported that you said Jesus was coming for the baby?”

Ian froze, the imagery of the day before lining up with her words.

“Did you hear voices, Ian? Is that what told you Jesus was coming?”

“I, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Ian wiped away a tiny bit of sweat accumulating on his brow. “Are we done now?”

“We can be done whenever you want.”

Ian rose to his feet, ready to make his exit.

“Wait, can I just say a few more things?” Dr. Beard held up a palm before continuing, “No more questions.”

Ian looked from her to the door, weighing his decision. His head was starting to ache and his heart was quickening in his chest.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised, giving him yet another smile that seemed to put him at ease.

He sunk back down into the chair, but compromised by staying seated on the edge with his legs wide and ready to take him out of there.

“After reading your file, talking with you a little bit today, and considering the history with your mother, I do think you demonstrate symptoms of bipolar disorder.”

Ian shook his head, running a hand back through his hair and letting out a small, nervous laugh.

“Ian, this doesn’t have to be what you’ve always known it to be. We can help you get started with some medication that will hopefully help to even you out. If it doesn’t work, there are other ones you can try. This is a treatable illness, but you need to be willing to participate in your care.”

“I’m not bipolar,” Ian insisted, jabbing his thigh with his finger to emphasize each word. She smiled at him again, only instead of comfort, all he saw was sympathy.

“Is that it?” Ian asked curtly, already halfway to the door.

“I’d like to talk to you again tomorrow, but yes, that’s it.”

Ian opened the door and turned down the hall toward his room, only making it around the corner before the pounding in his head and the hammering in his ears had him leaning his back against the wall. He slowly slid down to the floor, cradling his face in his hands with one thought repeating in his head. _I’m not bipolar._

*

“See ya tomorrow?” Fiona asked with one foot out of the car, hoping Mickey would finally say something after the silent ride home.

“Umm, yeah. Sure,” Mickey mumbled and looked out his window, not making eye contact with her.

“Okay,” Fiona said hesitantly and slammed the door, tucking her hands in her pockets as she watched Mickey drive away down the street.

“Hey, hey.”

Fiona looked to see Veronica coming down the stairs of her house, her arms burdened with clothes. Fiona met her halfway, taking a few dresses off the pile. “What is all this?”

“Had to go home to get some stuff to try on and make sure it still fits.” Veronica hiked up her arms, readjusting her grip before wiggling her eyebrows. “Going on a date.”

Fiona smiled at the news and followed Veronica into the house, excited for the details. “What? You’re gettin’ ready here? Is he picking you up like a _real_ date?”

“Nah.” Veronica stopped on the landing of the steps, shaking her head. “I’m meeting him at a restaurant.”

Fiona dumped her bag on the couch, following Veronica upstairs. “Who’s watchin’ the girls?”

“Kevin has them tonight,” Veronica said, glancing back at Fiona. “Thought I already told you that.”

Fiona’s face pinched in confusion as she dumped the dresses on Veronica’s bed. “How are you two goin’ on a date then?”

“My date’s not with Kevin.” Veronica said, rolling her eyes and sliding her phone from her pocket. “It’s with Eddie Murphy.”

“Eddie Murphy?” Fiona gawked at her incredulously. “ _The_ Eddie Murphy?”

“No, my Eddie Murphy. I poked him on Facebook and he messaged me.” Veronica tapped the screen of her phone, her eyes widening. “Oh shit. He sent me a selfie. Look, we could do laundry on those abs.”

“What?!” Fiona grabbed the phone from Veronica, eyeing up the picture. “Since when do you have an Eddie Murphy?”

“You don’t know everything about me,” Veronica said, pulling her shirt over her head and kicking off her jeans.

“Vee, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Thought you and Kev were just, you know, takin’ a breather.”

“We are.” Veronica picked a low cut, red lace dress, sliding it from the hanger to try on.

“So,” Fiona paused pointedly, waiting for Veronica to look up and meet her eyes. “Since when does a breather mean datin’ other people?”

Veronica huffed, shimmying the dress down over her hips. “You know how long it’s been since I got laid? Who’s side are you on?”

Fiona took a step back at the outburst. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I’m just sayin’-”

“Wrong answer,” Veronica corrected tersely. “You better be on someone’s side and it better be mine.”

“Okay, sure, of course.” Fiona held her palms up in surrender and watched Veronica check herself in the mirror, tucking her breasts into place and turning from left to right.

“You’re right.” Veronica sighed, her expression falling as she covered her face. She plopped down on the corner of the bed, groaning. “I don’t really know if I should go.”

Having learned her lesson, Fiona stayed quiet, shrugging but wrapping her arms around Veronica’s shoulders and leaning her chin on her head. “You know I love you no matter what, but maybe just think about it."

Veronica leaned into her with a sigh. “Just keep thinking about him and that hooker, in our house. She was over there again today. Maybe I’m goin’ a little crazy.”

“What are you guys doing?” Debbie rounded the corner of the doorframe, narrowing her eyes.

“Having a moment,” Veronica muttered, taking a deep breath and patting Fiona’s arm as she stood back up. “I’m gonna hang this stuff up.”

Debbie looked at Veronica's attire, but turned to Fiona, excitedly rambling. “I’m gonna change and go train with Derek for a couple hours.”

“No can do, Debs.” Fiona shook her head and started handing off hangers to Veronica as she opened the closet. “You know Jackie’s bringing Liam home and I have to go to the diner for the rest of the night.”

"But Jackie’s not bringing him back until 5, can’t she just keep him until 6?” Debbie locked her hands together and blinked her eyes. “Fi, he offered to work out with me, like give me a training session. It would be just the two of us.”

“Just the two of you?” Fiona asked suspiciously.

“My thoughts exactly,” Veronica chimed in, raising her brows.

“Well, no.” Debbie rolled her eyes. “We’ll be in the gym. There’s always people there but I meant he asked me, like personally.”

Fiona considered it a moment then slid her phone from her pocket, tapping out a quick text. “I’m askin’ Jackie but if she says no, you’re shit outta luck.”

Debbie nodded rapidly before snapping her neck to look down the hall, her mouth dropping open at what she saw.

“What?” Fiona asked, peeking out to see Frank in nothing but a pair of dingy briefs, scratching at himself and yawning. “Oh, hell no.” Fiona stormed down the hall, just in time to witness Frank step up into the bathroom and center himself in front of the toilet.

“Top of the afternoon to ya,” Frank said in a choppy Irish accent, saluting Fiona before he began to urinate.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Fiona yelled as she walked into the boys' room. "And what is that smell?" She pulled her sleeve down, covering her face with the fabric as she kicked a pile of clothes on the floor in front of Ian’s clearly slept in bed.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you, father?” Frank continued having the ideal conversation with his imagination as he finished his business, unbothered by Fiona’s outrage.

“You can’t stay here. This is Ian’s bed.” Fiona held her breath and stripped the sheets, rushing to shove them down the laundry chute.

Frank didn’t respond, tucking himself back into his underwear and glancing back at her as he washed his hands.

Fiona crossed her arms and filled the bathroom doorway, watching his every move. "Yeah, like that's really gonna help."

“Well, I could sleep in _my_ bed if you weren’t renting it out to wayward wives.”

“Fuck you, Frank.” Veronica called out from her bedroom.

“I second that,” Fiona said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll show you the way out.”

“Aww, c'mon, Fiona. No one’s slept in that bed for months! I heard Ian’s being put up by the state for awhile anyway, and even if he wasn't, everyone knows he lives with his undercover lover."

Debbie scoffed, walking out of her room in her gym clothes. "They're far from undercover.”

"Yeah, Frank, you know who else isn’t gonna be undercover?” Fiona moved out of the way when Frank stomped out of the bathroom and past her and Debbie. “You, when you’re sleeping on the street tonight."

Frank stepped into his worn and stained jeans, muttering under his breath. “Why are all my daughters such bitches?"

Fiona resigned herself to staying silent and only supervised, watching him gather up all his things and leave down the back stairs. She was listening for the sound of the door when Debbie couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“Did she text back?” Debbie asked anxiously, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Fiona sighed, pulling the phone from her pocket. She had a message from Jackie with a picture of her daughter and Liam eating Happy Meals at a picnic table.

_Dinner date in the park. I’ll have him home at 6._

“Be here at ten til 6.” Fiona said firmly, holding her phone up to show Debbie the picture.

“See, he’s having fun!” Debbie said, rushing back into her room to grab her sneakers and head down the stairs. “Thanks, Fiona.”

“I’m serious, Debbie. Don’t be late. I’m sure Jackie wants some alone time with her daughter,” Fiona called down, bracing her hands on either side of the stairwell and raising her voice. “And make sure Frank has left the premises.”

Fiona looked down when her phone buzzed again, laughing quietly at another picture from Jackie. Liam had his arm around Jackie’s daughter, kissing her cheek with a french fry hanging out of his mouth. Shaking her head, Fiona went back to help Veronica sort herself out.

*

Lip woke to someone knocking on his door, the sound quickly escalating into a pounding that rattled the hinges. He squinted and slowly moved Amanda’s arm from where she had it draped over his chest.

The pounding continued as he sat up, stepping out of the bed to search for his clothes that were strewn about the room.

Amanda lifted her head from the pillow, disoriented and looking around. “Who is that?”

“I don’t fucking know, but they’re pissing me off.” Lip raised his voice as he hopped towards the door, pulling his shorts up. “I’m coming!” The knocking finally stopped as he swung the door open, surprised when the culprit was a conservatively dressed middle aged woman on his doorstep. “Can I help you?” Lip asked, pulling the door closed so she couldn’t see into his room.

“I hope so,” she said, a hint of desperation layered under an indeterminable accent. “You’re the resident assistant on this floor, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Last time I checked.” Lip raised his brows and tapped a finger on the sign on his door.

“Oh, good.” The woman’s face washed with relief. “I’m Karen Perlow’s mom. She’s in 417.”

“Okay,” Lip said, still not sure why this conversation was so dire that she was breaking his door down.

“Karen gets a Ritalin every morning.” She pulled out a large travel bag with prescription bottles that were rattling with pills. “Never on an empty stomach.”

Lip tried to listen but was distracted when the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moaning leaked from the room across the hall.

Karen Perlow’s mom didn’t seem to notice, pointing to the largest bottle. “Then she needs an Ativan at lunch, two if she’s feeling anxious at test times.”

“Listen, I’m sorry ma’am,” Lip pre-empted her rambling with as much cheerful condescension as he could get away with. "But this isn’t a summer camp and I'm not the camp nurse either so Karen, she has to handle her own reds and bennies from now on."

Lip closed the door on her awestruck face and turned around to see Amanda, pulling the sheet up around herself and grinning.

"What?" Lip said, well aware that another gloating session was in his future. Amanda only grinned wider and shook her head.

“Your phone was going off.” Amanda nodded to the desk where Lip had left his phone before they became preoccupied and then fell asleep.

Lip picked it up, unlocking the screen and feeling panicked when he saw five missed text messages from Fiona.

_Waiting to see Ian. They still have the green couch. It smells the same._

Lip smiled at the inside joke and kept scrolling down to read the others.

_Didn't go great. He only talked to us for a few minutes and wanted to go back to his room. He’s seeing the Dr. later today. I’m waiting outside by Mickey’s car so we can go home but he’s MIA. WTF_

Lip rubbed at his suddenly tense neck, but kept reading.

_Going to work but text me back!_

_P.S. Had to kick Frank out again_

_P.P.S. Found MORE money in the can. Telling Carl tonight he has to quit._

“Shit,” Lip mumbled, kicking himself for not realizing when he slipped some cash into the squirrel fund that Fiona was keeping a strict record of how much was there.

“Something happen with your brother?” Amanda asked, rolling out of the bed and gathering up her clothes.

“Not really.” Lip flicked his thumb over the screen, reading all of the messages again. "There’s just a lot of shit going on at home right now.”

“You feel bad about having to come back?” Amanda asked, buttoning her shorts and sliding her glasses back on.

Lip shrugged, pushing the thought away. “Can’t be two places at once, can I?”

Amanda shook her head sympathetically and leaned up to peck his lips. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, sliding her feet into her sandals. “You really should get a private bathroom for being an RA.”

“Yeah, right.” Lip waited until Amanda left before looking at his phone again, reading all the messages a third time. He searched for the hospital number he saved to his phone the night before and hit dial, peeking out his blinds at the people swarming the campus as it rang.

“Psych Unit, this is Cindy.”

“Uh, yeah. My name’s Phillip Gallagher, I was calling about my brother who’s a patient there, Ian Gallagher. I wanted to know if I could talk to him.”

“There’s no patient calls between the hours of 4:00 pm and 6:00 pm to allow for dinner rounds.” Lip rolled his eyes as she spoke the rehearsed line. He checked the time on his watch, shaking his head when he saw it was 4:05.

“Okay, so when can I call him?” Lip drummed his fingers against his thigh, more irritated with himself for not calling earlier than with Cindy.

“You can try back after 6:00 pm or I can leave a message for him that you called,” Cindy offered politely.

“Hey, Lip,” Amanda said, standing in his doorway, a smug smile pulling at her mouth. “It smells like Snoop Dogg’s tour bus out here, there’s a toilet overflowing, and it sounds like 412 is featuring a pornapalooza.”

“Hello, are you there?” Cindy’s voice crackled in his ear.

Lip looked from Amanda to the floor, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m here. Just tell him I called.”

*

Mickey drained his glass and slammed it on the coffee table, knocking over a few empty beer bottles that were sitting in his way. He picked up the fifth of whiskey and tilted it over the glass, but changed his mind at the last minute, bringing the bottle to his lips and generously pouring it down his throat instead. The liquid glugged and he swallowed hard, grimacing at the burn that lit up his throat. He barely noticed the front door opening, only glancing up when Mandy spoke.

“Hey.” Mandy walked over to set her keys and jacket on the kitchen table. “How’d it go?"

Mickey was quiet, pulling a cigarette from a crumpled pack and pushing his hand down between the couch cushions in search of a lighter he'd dropped earlier but didn’t bother retrieving.

“Mickey, how’s Ian?” Mandy said louder, still receiving no response. Mickey produced the lighter and flicked the wheel, having way too much difficulty holding it still enough to connect the tip of his cigarette with the flame.

Mandy came around the couch and sat next to him, laying her hand on his leg.

“Mickey,” she said softly, leaning forward to try and garner his attention. Mickey looked down at her hand with irritation, but didn’t shove it away. He picked up his glass, filling it halfway with whiskey before lifting her hand up and pressing it into her palm. She accepted, curling her fingers around it and taking a swallow. “Did you not get to see him?”

Mickey took a hit from his cigarette and a gulp from the bottle, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils after he swallowed. “I saw him.”

Mandy sat up, her interest piqued. “What did he say?”

“He wants to go home and he wanted to know how the baby was,” Mickey said, flicking his ashes over and over into the ashtray even though nothing was falling.

“That’s it?” she asked incredulously.

“Oh,” Mickey paused, turning to face Mandy for the first time and giving her a vacant smile. “They had french toast for breakfast. The verdict is out on if it was any good, though.”

“Did you tell him I want to go see him tomorrow?”

Mickey shook his head. “He probably wouldn’t have remembered even if I did. They still got him all fucked up on shit.”

“Shit.” Mandy took a drink and looked down in her glass as she swirled the remaining liquid. “What did Fiona say?”

“That it’s normal. He’s sedated. The first day’s the worst. I don’t know. I stopped listenin’.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“I don’t know what to believe. Four days ago he was sittin’ here organizing fuckin’ shampoo bottles and laughing. It’s-” Mickey stopped, his voice cracking and preventing him from finishing the thought aloud. He looked away, gritting his teeth for a moment before talking to the wall. “It’s just, I should’ve seen it comin’.”

Mickey was thankful Mandy didn’t say anything, but then her hand was sliding over to his leg again. “You did good, Mickey.”

“Why does everyone keep sayin’ that shit?” Mickey snapped, grateful that the new emotion cancelled out the other one. “He’s locked up in a fuckin’ nut house. In what world is that good?”

Mandy withdrew her hand, not offering any further comfort. Mickey didn’t mind or notice, taking the opportunity to keep ranting. “It’s too fuckin’ quiet here. Where’s Svet and the kid?”

Mandy shifted, taking another sip from her glass. “They left.”

“Well, where’d they go?”

“All she said is she’s not staying here if you bring Ian back.”

“She don't have to worry about that anymore," Mickey said, smashing his cigarette in the ashtray.

“What? Why?”

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you that part.” Mickey chuckled darkly, covering his mouth with his hand. "When he said he wanted to go home, he meant with his sister. He don’t wanna come here.”

Mandy bit her lip. "Maybe he feels weird about taking Yev and being around Svetlana or he wants their help because they know what it’s like, with his mom and all. Maybe he just wants to be home for a little bit.”

"This is his home," Mickey said angrily, shaking his hand and pointing down to the floor beneath his feet. He stood and stumbled over Mandy on his way to the refrigerator, his eyes hot and threatening to betray him yet another time that day.

"Mickey," Mandy pleaded and threw her arm over the back of couch, watching him struggle to twist the cap off a beer.

He pointed to the almost empty fifth on the table. "You can have that, I'm done with it." He slammed half the beer and retreated to his room, leaning back on the door. His eyes immediately went to the bed, Yevgeny’s green striped blanket standing out against the ivory sheets. He balled it in his hand, ready to toss it to the floor, but hesitated a moment before carefully folding it and laying it on top of the dresser. Not caring that he just butted one out, he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking one out and lighting it.

Mickey sat there in thought as he smoked, occasionally rubbing at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose to keep himself alert. Letting out a heavy sigh, he walked over to the dresser and kicked the black garbage bag out of his way. He opened the bottom drawer, his hand searching under clothes until his fingers caught on a wrinkled piece of paper. He pulled it out and walked back over to the bed, sliding his phone from his pocket before he sat back down. He pulled up Iggy’s number and typed out a quick text.

_Moving truck is dead. I got two days for plan B._

He tossed the phone onto the nightstand and lied back on the bed, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the floor. Holding up the creased photo, Mickey tried to concentrate on Ian’s face as the room started spinning around him. He finally gave up, holding it to his chest and passing out.

*

Fiona trudged up the stairs, dreading that her day still was not over. She pushed open the door to the boys' room, her lips quirking to the side when she caught sight of Liam.

Shaking her head, she walked over to pull his blanket around his shoulders and moved Mater away from where the toy was creating a tow truck imprint on Liam's cheek. She sighed and turned her attention to the top bunk.

Fiona jabbed a finger into Carl's back, only waiting a few seconds before poking him harder and smacking the side of his head. "I know you're awake, you can stop pretendin'."

"What?" Carl mumbled sleepily, rolling over and squinting his eyes.

Fiona yanked his covers down to reveal him completely dressed and snuggled up to his backpack. "I saw the light in the window thirty seconds ago. Get up, I don't wanna wake Liam."

Carl huffed and hopped down from the bunk bed, sulking as he trailed behind Fiona.

She plopped down at the top of the back stairs, working the elastic from her ponytail and groaning loudly as she ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp.

"You want a minute alone with that? It’s been awhile, right?" Carl raised his eyebrows, snickering at his own joke.

“Very funny,” Fiona said, unamused as her mouth pulled into a thin, taut line. "Sit."

"Here?"

"Yep. If i go downstairs I don't think I’ll make it back up."

Carl sat down next to her, extending his legs so they were resting on the stairs below. “You look tired.”

“I’m always tired. Never a dull moment around here, you know that. Laundry, cookin', cleanin', takin' care of Liam, worryin' about Ian." Fiona stopped, giving him a pointed look. "Worryin’ about you."

Carl paid little attention to her last words, picking at the cracked lettering on his shirt. “Yeah, but you got it, Fi. You’re like a machine.”

Fiona took a deep breath at his nonchalance, readying herself for the last task of her day. "You gotta quit, Carl.”

"But-"

“No. First thing tomorrow after school, you take whatever you have left and any money you owe down to G-Dogg and you tell him you want out.”

Carl stiffened his back, arm shooting out to point angrily down towards the kitchen. “You think I didn’t count the money in the squirrel fund? I made three times what everyone else put in there. Three times!”

"Lower your voice." Fiona elbowed him and looked back, listening for any sound of Liam. Satisfied when she heard nothing, she turned to him and spoke low, but not about to back down. “Yeah, you did make more than anybody and we’re sure as hell keeping it, but it's not gonna do us any good if I'm using it all to pay Lou to get you out of a drug charge.”

Carl rolled his eyes, looking away. “They have public defenders for that.”

Fiona laughed at Carl's ignorance and youth showing through. “Some public defender isn't gonna care about gettin’ a _guilty_ South Side kid off the hook. They might negotiate your time down, but you’re still going to juvie if you get busted with that much shit.”

“You think I can’t handle juvie?” Carl scoffed, his chest puffing up. “I’d run that bitch.”

Fiona grabbed his knee, squeezing it and shaking his leg. “Not the point, Carl. I'm serious. I know you were just tryin' to help and you did, but you can't keep sellin' weed. What if they want to move you into selling crack or meth or worse!? Cut your losses and quit before something happens."

Carl was quiet, Fiona hoping she was watching the gears click and spin in his mind.

"I got really good at it." He scratched at his arm and looked over, suddenly looking like an uncertain thirteen year old boy. "I'm not that smart, Fiona. I'm never going to be able to find something I can do this well or make anywhere close to that."

Fiona’s throat tightened at the confession that hit a little too close to home. She put her arm around Carl's shoulder and pulled him into her side. "You have plenty of time to figure out somethin’ else you're good at. Hard truth is, we're Gallaghers and we're always gonna have to hustle and we’re always gonna have to scrounge to stay on our feet, but we don't have to keep gettin' locked up."

"Okay." Carl nodded reluctantly, giving Fiona the only peace she'd had all day. "Okay."

Fiona sat there a moment, unable to summon the energy to push herself up and toward her bed. Having solved her problem with Carl, her mind bounced back to her other main worry.

"How was Ian today?"

Fiona gave Carl a small smile, brushing off the uncanny feeling that he'd read her mind.

"He's..." Fiona stopped, trying to find the words. "He's ready to come home."

“How's Mickey?”

Fiona shook her head, running her hands back through her hair. “If I had to guess, I’d say not good. Honestly, didn’t go real smooth today.”

“Why?” Carl asked, bending his legs up to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Ian was just out of it and I tried to tell Mickey, warn him that’s how it might be, but then again, can you ever really be ready to see someone like that?”

Carl nodded his head, looking thoughtfully down the dark stairwell. “I think Mickey loves him.”

“Yeah, I think you're right.” Fiona stood, grimacing at the ache in her legs. "And if he doesn’t, he’s damn close.” Fiona nudged Carl with her knee. “C’mon, I’m going to bed and you are, too. You have a lot to do tomorrow, right?”

Carl sighed, rising and stretching his arms. "Right."

“And, Carl,” Fiona added, watching him stop dead in his tracks on the step into his room. “Leave anything you’re holdin’ here until after school.”

He gave her the thumbs up and closed the door, leaving Fiona in the hallway alone. She passed up the bathroom, forgoing brushing her teeth and washing her face until the morning when maybe she’d care. Instead she peeled her clothes off, tossing them into the corner of her room and picking up a t-shirt she'd stolen from Lip. She slid it on and burrowed under her covers to stare at the ceiling. After a moment, she turned on her side and fluffed her pillow, moving it right under her neck.

“You’re like a machine, Fiona,” she murmured to herself in the dark, closing her eyes as her body melted down into the bed. “Like a tired machine.”

*

Ian lay on his bed, hands behind his head and his foot jumping under the sheet to keep him awake. Fighting the drowsy pull on his mind, he uncovered and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His fingers found their way to the bend of his arm, peeling off the tape and gauze. He inspected the barely visible puncture wound, skimming it with his fingertips and wanting it gone.

“Aren’t you tired?” Ian’s fellow bunkmate asked, hanging his head down and startling Ian out of his thoughts.

Ian wrapped his fingers around his arm, pondering the question. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna be.”

“I think sleeping is the best part of the day. Didn’t they give you anything to help?”

Ian nodded. “I shouldn’t have taken it, though. I need to think and I can’t think on this shit,” he said irritably and rubbed at his eyes. “I just don’t wanna feel like this.”

“What do you wanna feel like?” the guy asked, his eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity.

“I wanna feel normal,” Ian said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I wanna feel like me.”

“I don’t even know who me is anymore,” his roommate said, rolling back over and pulling his blanket up.

Alarmed at the remark and determined not to acknowledge the way it resonated with him, Ian rose to his feet, using the frame of the bed to steady himself when his equilibrium wasn’t quite what it should be.

Ian shuffled over to the wall, illuminated with hundreds of little squares, a reminder that the light coming in was shining through a caged window. He stared at them, pressing his hand to the wall and tracing their outlines with his fingers.

When it seemed like he had traced them all, he began to pace, back and forth while dragging his hand on the wall. His feet followed the shadows on the floor and his fingers followed the lines of the squares. He moved to stay awake and he moved to think. He kept moving, because there was nothing else for him to do.

He did it over and over and over, until he just couldn’t anymore and had to stop, leaning his forehead to the wall. Unable to think, unable to feel, unable to do anything other than blink away the wetness pooling at the corners of his burning eyes.

“You gonna knock it off and go to sleep or what?” a different roommate snapped, huffing as he rolled onto his stomach.

Ian traced a square one last time, pressing his fingertip to each corner, before turning and walking back to the bed. He crawled onto the thin mattress and curled up on his side. He was not dressed in his clothes. He was not lying in his bed. He was not in his room.

This was not his life.


	7. Don't Wanna Get Away

Ian stared through the grates over the window, his eyes following the lines of the parking lot he’d been watching for three days. Soon, he’d be walking across it.

“Ian.”

Ian turned around to see Roger standing in the doorway, holding a plastic drawstring bag and the clipboard of papers that they’d already reviewed.

“I see you’re glad to be back in your own clothes.” Roger gestured to the outfit that Fiona had supplied for Ian to wear home. “The stuff you had on when you came in, your phone and wallet are all in here.” Roger held up the bag. “I’ll need you to check everything before you leave. There’s also a release to sign.”

Ian accepted the bag, looking through his things and taking inventory. He barely remembered checking in, but it seemed like it was all there. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone and attempting to turn it on before realizing the battery was dead. He dropped it back into the bag and wrapped the strings around his hand.

“You ready?”

“More than you know.” Ian kept his head down as Roger led them down the hallway. The nurse lifted up the first page on the clipboard, reading through his notes.

“I went over everything with your sister and gave her your meds, but remember that Dr. Beard only gave you a seven day supply. You need to get down to the clinic after the weekend and get set up with a primary doc to follow your case. Also, keep in mind that even though your blood tests came back clean, she’s still recommending you do follow up testing every six months.”

“Uh huh.” Ian replied, noticeably apathetic. He followed Roger, his fingers twitching in his pockets when he saw the white gate that led to the waiting area. Roger swiped his ID badge and the door to the lock buzzed, the sound causing Ian’s heartbeat to skip when it swung open and he was able to step over the threshold.

Ian immediately spotted Fiona and Lip but scanned the rest of the room, coming up empty. They cut their hushed conversation short and rose to their feet.

“Hey, baby,” Fiona cooed, pulling him into a hug and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “How are ya?”

Ian smiled weakly and nodded as Lip came in second, giving him a light squeeze and a quick thump on the back.

“Alright,” Roger said, pulling a pen from his pocket and marking a few boxes on the papers. “I just need you to sign your discharge papers here and here saying that we reviewed everything and you understand the diagnosis and plan of care. And then here for the complete return of your property.”

Ian took the pen, scribbling his name and the date several times, the bag wrapped around his hand bouncing against his leg.

“No questions, Ian?” Roger took the pen back and looked to him expectantly.

Ian rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes drifting away and down the hall toward the exit. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Okay then. Take care, man.” Roger held his hand out and smiled.

“Yep.” Ian shook it half-heartedly and took his copy of the papers that he had signed, folding them in half. Fiona hooked her arm through his as they all walked toward the elevator.

“You ready to come home?” Fiona asked softly, looking up and smoothing her hand over a few ruffled spots of his hair. Ian nodded but pulled away when the elevator doors opened, going in first and leaning against the back wall.

Lip pushed the button and turned around, gesturing to the bag. “You want me to carry that for you?”

“I got it.” Ian shook his head and held the bag closer. “You guys ask Mickey to come today?” Ian’s eyes bounced between Lip and Fiona as they silently exchanged something that he couldn’t interpret.

“I still haven’t talked to him,” Fiona finally admitted, avoiding eye contact by picking at her shirt. “Did you get ahold of him yesterday?”

“Only for a couple minutes,” Ian muttered as his gaze fell to the floor. “Something’s up, though. He sounded _different_.”

Lip shared another of their secret looks with Fiona before glancing back. “Just give him a call when you get all settled. See what’s up.”

Ian twisted the rubber of his shoe into the floor, saying nothing.

They walked through the lobby, Ian trailing behind until they pushed through the large double glass doors. Ian angled around Fiona, walking up to the closest trash can and yanking at his hospital ID bracelet until it snapped in half. He unfolded the papers and skimmed down the discharge form, his eyes drawn only to the unsettling parts. _Acute Mania. Mood Stabilizer. Psychotic Features. Antipsychotic_.

He took a moment, re-reading the most offensive term one final time.

_Bipolar I._

His fingers closed in a fist, crumpling the bracelet and papers together in a ball as he tossed them in the trash. Inhaling a deep breath, he ignored Fiona and Lip’s stares and walked past them, leading the way.

*

_He home?_

Mandy leaned against the sink in the Gallagher’s bathroom, reading a text on her phone before typing her reply.

_Not yet. Where the hell are you?_

Mandy chewed the corner of her lip, anxiously waiting for her brother to respond.

_Still fucking here. Taking longer than I thought._

Mandy groaned, her fingers tapping away.

_He’s going to ask me again. What am I going to say?_

She kept her eyes on the screen, watching Mickey’s text appear almost immediately after she hit the send button.

_Figure it out_

“No shit,” Mandy grumbled to herself and checked her face in the mirror. She licked a fingertip and ran it over a smudge of eyeliner under her lashes before returning to where Debbie was struggling with putting a fitted sheet onto Ian’s bed.

“I’ll help ya.” Mandy set her phone down on the dresser and began to pull the sheet around the outer corner and tuck it under the mattress. Debbie growled, still fighting to cover the top corner that rested along the wall.

“Ian’s coming home today,” Liam said from where he was enacting a battle between Batman and Spiderman on his bed. He dropped both figures, and lowered his voice in a hushed yet serious tone. “Fiona said I have to be quiet when he’s resting.”

Mandy gave him a tight lipped smile and nodded her head. “Yep, he’ll be here soon.”

“Let’s just move the bed out, it’ll be easier.” Debbie grabbed the wooden footboard, waiting for Mandy to assist. Mandy wrapped her hands around the frame and pulled as Debbie lifted. "I met someone," Debbie added, her eyes wide and suddenly radiant.

“Yeah?” Mandy asked and smiled back, Debbie’s grin proving to be contagious.

“Yeah. He's really cute and he's cool and he's super nice to me and," Debbie paused, her happiness fading as she winced. "I'm so scared I'm gonna screw it up because I think he might like me."

"How do you know?"

Debbie wedged herself into the sliver of space, easily popping the sheet over the last corner. "I don't know. I can't describe it. Like, we just have fun hanging out and we can talk about anything and everything. Sometimes we don’t talk at all and it’s still cool."

Mandy nodded as she nudged the bed back against the wall with her knees. "Sounds decent. Those are the kind of boyfriends you want, but they’re few and far between."

"Have you ever had a boyfriend like that? One that was just awesome to hang out with and talk and just, whatever?" Debbie’s tone was back to dreamy as she shook Ian’s army blanket and threw it over the mattress.

“Once,” Mandy murmured, her eyes falling to the bed for a moment before she glanced up, meeting Debbie's inquisitive stare. She pulled the blanket out and moved to change the subject. “Shouldn’t they be here?”

“I think so, Fiona said he was able to be discharged after 8 and it’s already 9:30.” Debbie handed Mandy a pillowcase and one of Ian’s pillows. “What was Ian like?” Debbie asked, glancing up before tucking another pillow under her chin and shaking it down into the case she was holding open with her hands. “When you visited him.”

Mandy shrugged. “Quiet. He only really asked where Mickey was.”

Debbie furrowed her brow. “Where is he anyway? Thought he’d go today to pick him up or at least be here.”

“He went with the family for a couple days.”

“When Ian’s coming home?” Debbie asked skeptically, opening the blinds more to let the morning sun stream in.

Mandy tucked her hair behind her ear and smoothed the blankets down, avoiding Debbie’s inquiring eyes. “Couldn’t get out of it.”

“Look who’s home.” Debbie and Mandy shared a look at hearing Fiona’s voice.

“He’s here!” Liam squealed and hopped up, racing for the stairs. Debbie followed him while Mandy stayed back, fluffing the pillows and placing them carefully at the head of Ian’s bed before heading downstairs.

Halfway down, she lingered on the staircase and peered down at Ian patting Liam’s head, the small boy's arms clenched around both of Ian’s legs.

“Are you okay?” Liam extended his neck back, gazing up hopefully.

“I’m fine.” Ian patted his brother’s head one final time before sliding away. He glanced up and met Mandy’s eyes, mirroring the half-hearted smile she had forced her lips to form.

He looked away when Debbie wrapped her arms around him as he stood there, barely returning the gesture. “Do you want something to eat? I made a casserole, it’s all ready. Don’t even need to heat it up. It’s still warm.”

“Not really, Debs.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m tired, I’m just gonna lay down for a little bit.”

"You want me to come up with you, so you're not alone?" Fiona asked, concern evident in her voice.

Ian shook his head and shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "M'fine, Fiona. I don't need a nurse."

Fiona pursed her lips as Ian climbed the stairs, stopping as he passed Mandy.

Not wanting to smother him with another hug, she opted to run her hand down his arm instead. "Welcome home."

“Is he here?” Ian asked, his eyes tired and red but still boring into her, wanting answers.

Mandy shook her head and averted her gaze from his forlorn expression before looking back. “He’d be here if he could.”

“Don’t gotta lie to me, Mandy,” Ian chuckled humorlessly under his breath, moving past her and trudging up to his bedroom.

Fiona watched warily as Ian disappeared, turning her sight to Mandy. “Where _is_ Mickey?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “He hasn’t returned my calls for two days and Ian said he only talked to him for a few minutes yesterday.”

Mandy shifted her weight, uncomfortable at the scrutiny. “He’s working.”

“Uh-huh.” Fiona crossed her arms but turned to walk into the kitchen.

Mandy came down the rest of the stairs and rounded the corner of the banister, rolling her eyes behind Fiona’s back.

“He’s totally Monica.” Debbie said, shaking her head and taking a sip of coffee.

“He’s just gettin’ used to his meds right now, Debs. It’ll get better but we all gotta keep a close eye on him, make sure he takes his pills.” Fiona dug the prescription bottles from her purse and handed them over to Debbie. “Put these up where Liam can’t get them. Ian already took them this mornin’ so his next dose will be after lunch. If he still won’t eat, just try to get him to take them with some milk.”

Debbie inspected the labels and walked over to the sink, lining them up on the window sill. “Do you care if I go get a quick workout in if he’s just gonna be sleeping anyway?”

Fiona sighed, finger combing her hair up to the crown of her head. “Not this time, Debs. I don’t want him left alone and I gotta work the lunch shift at 11:30, so you’re gonna have to stay with Liam anyway.”

“I can stay with him,” Mandy offered from where she was leaning over the washer and observing.

Fiona glanced at her as she secured her hair with an elastic tie. “Liam or Ian?"

Mandy shrugged. "Both if you need me to."

“Here’s his stuff,” Lip said, walking through the living room and tossing the plastic hospital bag onto the couch next to Liam, tickling his neck.

Mandy stood up straight when she heard his voice, chewing at her lip when his gaze landed on her. “Oh, hey, Mandy.”

Knowing she might run into him that day, but still feeling ill prepared, all she did was give him a single wave of her hand and a quick smile. “Hey.”

“What are these? Doritos?” Lip asked, picking at the casserole on the counter.

“They’re nacho cheese flavored tortilla chips, but yeah, pretty much,” Debbie explained. “Sheila gave me the recipe and told me it’s great for family affairs because you can make it ahead of time and it heats up well.”

“Family affairs, huh?” Lip raised a brow and picked out a decent sized chip off the top to shovel a huge bite into his mouth. “It’s actually pretty good. Man, I miss Sheila’s cooking.”

“I just miss Sheila,” Fiona lamented.

“You cool here?” Lip asked, digging his fingers into the casserole and helping himself to another bite. “I have a lot to do once I get back on campus.”

“Stop it!” Debbie swatted at his hand. “I made that for Ian.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Fiona waved him off. “Go do what you need to do and tell Amanda thanks for the car from me, would ya? Debbie, If you wanna go the gym, go now. That way you might even be back before I have to leave. We don’t need to keep Mandy tied up all day.”

Mandy shrank back a little more, feeling outside of the conversation. She reached for her back pocket, remembering where she left her phone when she realized the space was empty. Not bothering to tell anyone where she was going, she headed upstairs.

Mandy tapped lightly on Ian’s door, pushing it open to see the once bright room darkened by the drawn blinds in every window. Ian was lying on his side in bed, eyes closed with the freshly washed covers pulled up around his chest. She crept to the dresser and froze when her foot pressed into a sagging board, causing the floor to emit a slow groan.

“I, uh.” Mandy’s voice wavered when Ian’s eyes flickered up to her as she was sliding the phone into her palm. “I forgot my phone up here.”

Ian blinked, somehow already appearing more exhausted than when they passed on the stairs only a short time ago.

“I’ll leave you alone so you can sleep.” Mandy quickly turned on her heel to make an exit.

“Mandy.”

She stopped and looked back at Ian, who was shifting and making a little space on the bed. “You can stay if you want.”

“You sure?” Mandy inched closer, feeling a pang of pride that she was the only one Ian had extended the offer to.

Ian nodded, scooting back to give her more room. She sat down and leaned back against the wall, swinging her legs up onto the mattress. They shared a not quite comfortable silence, Mandy playing with a ring on her thumb as she searched for what to say. “Mickey will-”

“Don’t wanna talk.” Ian cut her off and shook his head. He stretched his arm up to grip his pillow and hug it tightly.

Mandy nodded, smiling sympathetically as she covered Ian’s hand with her own and squeezed.

He stared ahead, his eyelids noticeably heavy and drooping, but turned his palm up and intertwined their fingers. “Just sit here with me, okay?”

Mandy watched Ian’s eyes flutter closed when she began to rub the side of his finger with her thumb and kept her voice to a whisper. “Okay.”

*

Fiona held her Patsy's shirt under the kitchen faucet, scrubbing at a ketchup stain and hoping it would fade enough to pass for clean. Checking the time on the microwave, she threw the shirt in the dryer with a fabric softener sheet and turned the dial to high heat.

She was rummaging through the drawers when her head snapped up at hearing a growl as the back door opened, revealing Veronica, jaw clenched and eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey,” Fiona said hesitantly, ripping off a large sheet of foil and pressing it around the edges of the glass casserole dish.

"Hey." Veronica quickly swiped at her eyes and straightened her spine. "Thought you were getting Ian today."

"We did, he's upstairs sleepin'," Fiona replied and turned to slide the casserole into the refrigerator. "But what's going on with you?”

"Nothing going on with me but apparently there’s a whole lot going on two houses down.” Veronica slammed her purse onto the counter and sat down on one of the kitchen stools, groaning as she hid her face in her hands. “Seriously, fuck my life.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Fiona knit her brows at witnessing Veronica hit a new level of frustration.

“My husband and my babies are now living with a hooker and her baby. It’s like some fucked up Brady Bunch shit going on over there.”

Fiona’s jaw dropped. “Wait. Svetlana is livin' with Kev now? Livin' with him? Like moved her shit in and everything.”

Veronica cocked her head. “That’s usually what that means.”

"Well..." Fiona trailed off and planted her hands on her hips. "Well," she tried again, but her mouth only hung open wordlessly. "Well, how the fuck did that happen? And how do you know this?"

"No one was gonna tell me, I know that for sure. She's already been there three days." Veronica winced and rubbed at her forehead. "Kate said she'd open the bar today so I figured I'd stop and pick up the bills so I could pay them, plus, I kinda wanted to see the girls. Thought about taking them to the park or something. I don't know, it's just been awhile, right?"

Fiona nodded and leaned down, resting her elbows on the counter and giving Veronica her undivided attention.

"So I walk in because it's still my fucking house and what do I see? Svetlana laying on my couch, the couch I spent my money on when Kev and I very first moved in there and it was made up like a bed and a bunch of her stuff was there. Fiona, she had all the babies lined up on a blanket on the floor, all of 'em. Dominick, Gemma, Amy, Yevga, Yevyo or whatever his name is and they're all laughing and talking gibberish and no one's crying and..."

"And what?" Fiona asked, hanging on every word.

Veronica's eyes dropped as she sighed. "And I started asking about why she was there and what the hell was going on."

"Askin'?" Fiona interrupted, quirking an eyebrow.

"Okay. Yelling, I started yelling and Kevin came running downstairs in a towel because I guess he was taking a shower and it just....it got bad again. He said she just needed somewhere to crash and that she helps him with the girls and I said some stupid shit about him fucking her and trying to move a new mom in and he made me leave and all the babies were crying and I'm just so...."

"Pissed?" Fiona offered, attempting to finish her friend’s thought.

Veronica shook her head as she blinked back the tears. "I'm sad. I'm really sad that things are like this."

“No, no, no.” Fiona walked around the counter to wrap an arm around Veronica’s shoulder and pull her into a hug. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Veronica sobbed, wiping at her cheeks and groaning. “God, I hate this.”

Fiona gave her a light squeeze. “You guys are gonna figure this out. I know it,” she promised before continuing in an upbeat voice. “You’re Kev and Vee, Vee and Kev. If anyone can make it work, it’s you two.”

“I hope you’re right,” Veronica muttered, pulling a tissue from her purse to wipe at her nose.

Fiona looked over to the living room, spotting Carl sneaking toward the stairs. “Hey, where you been all mornin'?”

“Out.” Carl replied shortly, already up the first few steps.

“Out where?”

"Looking for a new job."

“Carl,” Fiona called, stopping him dead in his tracks. She stalked into the living room, arms crossed and brows raised. “Did you talk to G-Dogg yet?”

Carl’s eyes flitted past her to the fireplace before he looked back. “He hasn’t been around but I put the word out that I need to see him.”

“Carl,” Fiona reprimanded, her tone reflecting that she wasn’t buying it.

“What?” Carl threw his hands up and huffed out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. He doesn’t have a hotline or office hours that I can just roll up in there and tell him I’m quitting. I have to go through a chain of command.”

Fiona tapped her fingers against her arm as she listened, the story not completely unbelievable. “Chain of command, huh?”

“Yeah, and I’m still not selling. Haven’t since we talked.” Carl slipped his backpack off and shoved it towards Fiona. “You wanna check?”

Fiona looked from Carl’s eyes to the bag, resisting the urge to agree. Sighing, she uncrossed her arms and relaxed her shoulders. “No. I trust ya, Carl. Just do what you can to move this along a little quicker would ya? When you do talk to him, see if someone can come here to pick up what’s left or something. I don’t like you carryin’ a bunch of weed around.”

Car scoffed but gave her a little nod, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Ian home?”

“Yeah but he’s in bed sleepin’. If you go in there, be quiet, he needs the rest with all these meds they have him on.”

“He’s doing okay though, right?” Carl’s voice was laced with a tinge of worry that pulled at Fiona’s heart.

“Yep.” She tried her best to sound convincing. “He’s doin’ okay but we all still need to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t need anything or isn’t alone for too long.”

“Got it.” Carl nodded and headed up the stairs.

“I’m goin’ to work but I’ll be back for dinner. Be here at 6.”

Fiona heard a muffled response and walked back into the kitchen to find Veronica looking over her face in a compact mirror. Composing herself, Veronica patted some powder under her eyes and looked up. “I think I’m done for now.”

“You don’t have to be on my account.” Fiona gave her a small smile and checked the time on the microwave. “Shit. I do have to get to work, though.”

“Hey, Fiona.” Veronica said as Fiona pulled her Patsy’s shirt from the dryer and checked it for marks.

Fiona looked back, pulling the still warm gray t-shirt on. “Yeah.”

“You doing okay? With Lip being back at school and now bringing Ian home? Dealing with this G-Dogg shit with Carl? You know, just cause I’m having problems doesn’t mean you can’t still vent to me about yours.”

”I know, Vee.” Fiona thought for a moment, then pushed aside the worries in her mind. “But I’m okay, been like this a long time, you know. Same shit, different day. Besides, I like hearing about your life and if I didn’t already say it, Kevin and Svetlana being BFFs is _definitely_ fucked up.”

“Thank you.” Veronica threw her hands up in vindication. "You wanna know the best part about me finding that mail order bride in my house?"

"What?"

"Guess what she was watching?"

Fiona shrugged, shaking her head before her eyes went wide when Veronica tilted her head and shot her a pointed look. "No."

"Yes."

"No." Fiona’s mouth pulled up in a huge grin.

"It's not funny," Veronica protested and opened her purse. "Kev thinks he’s gonna move her into _my_ house, let her sleep on _my_ couch, take care of _my_ babies _and_ watch my fucking DVDs? He's got another thing coming,” she muttered and began unloading several worn and faded box sets of _ER_.

“Oh my god, Vee. You’re such a bitch.” Fiona laughed, tightening her ponytail. “How many of those do you have?”

“Only the early ones,” she replied, stacking them up on the counter. “Before John Wells let it turn into a shitshow.”

“You’re brutal.” Fiona nodded to the boxsets. “No one’s safe.”

"Don't you ever forget it," Veronica warned with a sly smile and stood to swing her purse onto her arm. "I gotta get to the bar, walk to work together?"

Fiona nodded happily, gathering her things and following Veronica out the door.

*

Lip fumbled with his phone, trying to slide the key into the lock on his dorm room while he texted Amanda.

_I’m back. Stop over when you’re done._

Turning the doorknob, he found his room in a state of mild disarray, exactly like he had left it that morning. He dropped his keys on the desk and ran his hands through his hair, resting them on his head as he took in the messy bed and food wrappers strewn all over the place, more evidence of a rough start to the first week of classes. Sighing, he dropped his arms and started with the easiest task, beginning to sloppily make his bed.

“Lip.” He heard a voice tentatively call for him at the same time there was a knock on the door. “Lip, come on, I need you.” He finished pulling the wrinkled sheets up, not concerned with the frantic pleading that was escalating on the other side.

“I know it’s Saturday and I’m sorry.” Lip threw his pillows back on the bed and opened the drawer on his desk, muttering to himself as he picked out a small ring of keys.

He didn’t bother hiding his annoyance when he swung the door open to find a freshman standing on his doorstep, completely naked and strategically holding a shaving bag. “Dude, again?”

“I’m sorry,” the young man averted his eyes to the floor. “Last time, I promise.”

“Come on.” Lip gave him an eye roll as he shouldered past him, glancing back to see him scurrying in his wake. “This is the third time this week. I wasn’t even here ten minutes ago, what would you have done then?”

The guy shrugged, almost colliding with Lip when he stopped in front of the locked door. “Wait until you got back?” he asked in a small, hopeful voice.

“I better never come home to _that_ on my doorstep.” Lip eyed him warily and nodded down as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “You need to put an extra key in your bag, or wear one around your neck. Hell, tie one to your dick, I don’t care.”

“Okay,” the freshman replied timidly, walking past Lip and into his room. “Thanks, Lip.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Lip shuffled through the keys as he walked back to his room, contemplating marking that one for the inevitable next time he needed it.

“Are you the RA?”

Fighting back a groan at the nasally voice, he lifted his head to see Amanda, leaning against his door and chewing on the straw of an iced coffee.

“Fuck, I thought you were for real.” Lip’s shoulders dropped in relief as he hooked a thumb, pointing over his shoulder. “415 locked himself out.”

“I know,” Amanda teased with exaggerated lechery. “I saw you guys walk around the corner. I was admiring his perfectly symmetrical ass again."

Lip chuckled and rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. “I’m starting to seriously think you have a thing for him.”

Amanda shrugged, setting her backpack by the bed. “I like guys with big travel bags,” she quipped, the corner of her lips pulling up.

“That’s good you like the bag, 'cause I can assure you there’s not much behind it.” Lip dropped the ring of room keys into the drawer and turned to toss Amanda’s car keys to her. “Thanks again for the car. Fiona said thanks, too.”

Amanda caught them mid-air and slid them into the front pocket of her bag. “Sure, I wasn’t using it anyway.”

“How was class?”

Amanda sighed, finishing her drink before plopping down on the bed and kicking off her flip flops. “The usual Saturday demographic. Young overachievers and middle aged moms.”

Lip pulled a sour face and leaned back against his desk, watching her get comfortable. “Still don’t know why you signed up for that. Who takes a bullshit English class for four hours on Saturdays?”

“Someone who wants her last three bullshit English credits by Halloween. It’s only an eight week class. Plus, they always let you leave early, wasn’t even supposed to be done until 12.” Amanda stretched out on the bed and yawned. “So?” Amanda asked, crossing her legs.

“So what?” Lip shook his head and shrugged a shoulder.

“So, how did it go?”

“It went.” Lip sighed and scratched at his arm. “We got there and his nurse came out, talked to Fiona a little bit. Said Ian’s taking the meds and cooperating but he’s still denying he needs them and they’re worried about him keeping it up once he’s at home.”

“That’s good, though. Maybe it’s the first step and then the meds will help clear his head and he'll see that he needs them.”

Lip stared ahead, only briefly considering the possibility. “You don’t know Ian.” He shook his head and turned to ball up some of the loose papers and food wrappers sitting on his desk. “He hates admitting he needs help or that he may be wrong.”

Amanda gasped, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine.”

Lip threw the trash at her and hopped onto the bed, making sure to collide with Amanda in the process.

“I don’t know,” he mused, mindlessly pushing a piece of Amanda’s hair out of her eyes. “I can’t figure out if he really _doesn’t_ believe it or if he just doesn’t want to.”

“Maybe it’s a little of both.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Lip rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too, but we’re behind on doing your schedule. How much of that stuff do you need to do before Monday?” Amanda asked, gesturing to the books on Lip’s desk.

Lip glanced over and groaned. “Too much.”

“Well.” Amanda pushed herself off the bed, straightening her shirt and slipping her shoes back on. “Why don’t you get started on some of that and I’ll go grab us some lunch, then I’ll come back and help you rough out a schedule for this semester.”

Lip rolled onto his side, propping his head up on an elbow. “What’s for lunch?”

“Something light.” Amanda dug in her bag for her wallet and keys. “Dinner’s going to be huge.”

“Dinner?” Lip raised a brow, moving from the bed to sit at his desk. “What dinner?”

Amanda rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Jason and Cheryl have requested the honor of your presence for a few hours.”

“Tonight?” Lip rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing at the pile of books again.

“Yes, tonight.” Amanda insisted, walking over to the desk. “They’re doing surf and turf that would cost a hundred bucks a plate anywhere else and the best part is,” Amanda trailed off, leaning down to wrap her arms around Lip and whisper in his ear. “It’s free. You’d be a fool not to go.” She kissed him on the cheek and stood up straight. “You weren’t going to go back home the rest of the weekend, were you?”

Lip shrugged, leaning his head back to look up at her. “Didn’t get that far yet.”

“It’ll be fine,” Amanda promised, pecking an upside down kiss to his lips and turning to leave. “I’ll be back. Start working on the smallest assignment. It’ll give you a sense of accomplishment and build momentum once you’re finished.”

Lip’s shoulders slumped as he surveyed the pile of books, sliding one out and mumbling to himself as he cracked it open. “Calculus it is.”

*

Ian gazed up at the sky, the clouds moving slowly over the mid-day sun as he drifted on the inner tube in the water. He closed his eyes, appreciating the weightless feeling and the sounds of the water lapping at the sides of the pool when wet droplets started pelting his face.

Lifting his head, he saw Carl dipping his hand in the water and flinging it in his direction.

“The fuck are you doing in the pool?”

“I’m enjoying the end of pool season,” Ian deadpanned as he extended his neck back again, dipping his hair into the water.

“In your clothes?” Carl scoffed. “That’s just crazy.”

“Bingo.” Ian pointed to him without bothering to look up. He continued to drift on the surface, taking for granted that Carl had left when he heard nothing but silence.

“What’s it feel like to be crazy?”

Ian sighed and side stroked a few times, propelling himself in a small circle. “It’s only been a few days but so far it’s mostly like I’m under a wet blanket and I have cotton mouth all the time.”

“They give you shock therapy in there?”

The corner of Ian's mouth twitched as he shook his head. “No.”

“I need the details, could be me next, you know.” Carl rested an elbow on the wall and pensively swirled his hand in the pool. “You ever think about painting yourself and running around naked? I think about that. Or flying?" he quickly added. "I dream about that.”

“That doesn’t make you crazy," Ian assured, hearing the slight worry in his brother's voice.

“What about pushing someone onto the tracks when the train’s coming?" Carl paused, shaking the water from his hand. "You ever thought about that?”

"No," Ian replied firmly with no hesitation, glancing up to gauge Carl’s seriousness.

Carl walked along the side of the pool, following Ian as he floated in the water. “I heard about a guy once who thought he had x-ray vision and said he could see girls’ titties through their clothes. That kind of crazy doesn’t sound that bad.”

Ian quirked a brow. “Sounds pretty bad.”

Carl snorted and stepped up on the first rung of the ladder, peering down at his brother. “So what, you’re just gonna lay out here in the pool?”

“For now. Why?”

“I gotta go to work.” Carl shifted his weight, looking around uncertainly.

“And?” Ian asked, lifting his head and shielding his eyes from the light.

Carl shrugged and looked away. “Don’t wanna leave you out here by yourself.”

Ian settled back again, closing his eyes. “I’ll be okay, Carl.”

“Yeah but Fiona said not to-”

Ian cut him off with a groan, hopping off the float and wading towards the edge of the pool. “If I get out are you gonna go to work and leave me alone?”

Carl nodded, slipping his arms through the straps of his bookbag.

Ian shook his head and pushed himself up on the edge of the pool, struggling with the simple task when his sedated muscles were weighed down by water soaked clothes. He managed to swing his legs over and drop to the ground, stretching his arms out to magnify his accomplishment. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Carl grinned in satisfaction and headed for the alley before turning back around and walking backwards. “Better not go in the house all wet like that or Fiona will be all over your ass.”

Ian waved him off and headed for the stairs. “She’s already up my ass, won’t be much of a difference.” Exhausted from the climb, he stopped at the top to peel off his jeans and shirt and hung them over the wooden banister.

Grabbing a towel from the basket on top of the dryer, he dried off and scrubbed his hair before raiding the refrigerator for any liquids he could find. He pinched the spout of an orange juice carton and poured it into his mouth, the long gulps providing a relief but still not quenching his thirst. Dragging the back of his hand across his chin, his eyes landed on the window sill, particularly two little orange outlines standing out against the light filtering in.

They rattled when he scooped them up in one hand, reading the labels as he drank from the carton again. He set the juice down and looked at the clock, a dread setting in when he saw it was almost that time.

“Hello.”

Ian heard Debbie’s voice and moved to slip into the bathroom off the kitchen, quietly closing the door behind him. He popped one of the caps and peered down into the bottle, twenty one little reminders looking back at him. Holding it at eye level, he tipped it over the toilet, watching every single one as they sunk to the bottom of the bowl. He quickly opened the other and did the same, smiling in relief at the patter of the pills as they cut through the surface of the water.

“I don’t know, Derek. I have to stay with my brother, he just came home today and my sister left me in charge of him.”

Ian grimaced, the conversation he could hear Debbie having through the door solidifying his decision. He pushed the handle down, flushing the pills forever away. He dropped the empty bottles in the trash and pushed the door open, emerging from the bathroom to find Debbie standing right there, her face pinched in confusion as she took in Ian’s lack of clothes and wet hair.

“I gotta go,” Debbie spoke quickly into the phone before hanging up. “Ian, why are you soaking wet and in your underwear?”

“I was in the pool," he said simply, picking up and slamming the remainder of the juice.

“Okay, then.” Debbie rolled her eyes at him before opening the fridge and sliding her casserole out. “You want some of this now? You have to eat when you take your pills, and look.” Debbie held it out proudly. “It has Doritos on it. Well, they’re generic but still, it’s really good. Even Lip said so.”

Ian shook his head, walking over to rifle through some clothes on the dryer.

“Then you’ll have to drink a glass of milk or eat something else because it says on the labels-” Debbie’s voice cut off when she turned toward the sink to grab the prescription bottles that were missing. “Ian, where are your pills?”

Unbothered by the obvious panic in Debbie’s voice, Ian held up a t-shirt and answered without even looking. “They’re gone.”

“I can see that they’re gone but gone where?” Debbie stalked up to him, forcing herself into his space to inspect his eyes before lowering her voice. “Did you swallow them?"

Feeling a twinge of guilt at her assumption, Ian let her search his face before gently pushing her aside. “No. They’re flushed.”

Debbie’s hands flew to her head. “Ian, why would you do that?”

“Because they’re awful, Debs,” Ian snapped, balling the shirt in his hands. Taking a breath, he ran a hand through his hair and softened his voice, imploring Debbie to understand. “They make me feel like life’s not even worth living.”

“Ian, why didn’t you wake me up?” Mandy appeared on the landing of the kitchen stairs, yawning and stretching her arms. “It’s almost time for you to eat and take your pills.”

“Not taking them, Mandy,” Ian sighed, trying to keep his tone firm as he shook his shirt out and pulled it over his head.

“What do you mean?” Mandy gave him a puzzled look, Debbie answering before he could.

“He flushed them!”

Ignoring them, Ian unplugged his phone from where it was charging on the counter and made an attempt to exit through the living room when Mandy grabbed his arm and hauled him back to face her.

“Did you really flush them?”

“Yes, I really flushed them.” Ian said wearily, eyeing where her nails were digging into his bicep. “Why is that so hard to believe? I don’t wanna take them.”

“But you need them,” Mandy reminded, tilting her head to meet his eyes.

“No, I really don’t.” Ian's face started to fall, too tired to keep up his firm facade as he blinked back an unwelcomed wetness in his eyes. “Please just let me go back to bed. I already feel so much better knowing that they’re gone.”

Mandy dropped her arm, looking at him helplessly as he walked away.

Ian climbed the stairs, making it a point not to look back as he heard Debbie and Mandy begin to whisper frantically. After changing into dry boxers, he crawled back into bed, his phone still clutched tight in his hand. He rolled toward the wall and slid his finger over the screen a few times, seeing no messages or missed calls, only twenty-seven voicemails. None from that day.

He scrolled through his contacts, his finger landing on Mickey’s name. Glancing at the name below it, his finger moved down to hover for just a second before it returned to Mickey and pressed send. He tightened his grip on the phone with every ring that went unanswered, reminding himself to breathe between each one. When the standard voicemail greeting picked up, he ended the call and closed his burning eyes, tucking the phone by his pillow, just in case.

*

Fiona checked the upstairs rooms, huffing in irritation when there was no sign of Ian anywhere. She galloped down the back stairs and pushed aside the kitchen curtains, peeking out the window.

“There you are,” she muttered, zeroing in on Ian, who was smoking a cigarette in a lawn chair by the pool. She untied her work apron and slammed it on the table before jogging down the back stairs.

Ian’s eyes locked with hers when her sneakers hit the grass, sighing as she approached. “Thought you were working.”

Fiona stalked over, standing guard in front of him as she crossed her arms tightly. “Debbie and Mandy came to the diner and told me what happened.”

Ian gave a knowing nod, relaxing back in the chair and smirking. “They come to tell on me?”

“You flushed your pills, Ian," Fiona said, trying to hold back the accusatory tone. "You get that that’s a full-on Monica move, right?”

Ian raised his brows and took a final hit from the cigarette, flicking it to the ground. “You know I’m not Monica.”

Fiona’s shoulders dropped as she bit the inside of her cheek, rethinking her approach. “C’mon," she pleaded softly and smiled, her voice sugary sweet. She took a step forward and squeezed Ian’s shoulder. "It's 3 and the clinic closes at 4 until Monday, let's just run over and get you a new prescription.”

“No thanks.” Ian immediately sat back in the chair, sliding away from her grasp. His knuckles blanched as he wrapped his hands around the plastic armrests, his eyes never leaving Fiona’s.

Fiona gritted her teeth and pushed a loose curl behind her ear. “Debbie and Mandy are out tryin’ right now to get those empty bottles refilled. Debs was cryin' and she feels like it's her fault-"

“Really?” Ian chuckled, shaking his head. “Now you’re trying to manipulate me like we used to do with Monica. I’m not worried about getting new ones because I’m not taking them.”

"Ian-”

“I'm not Monica," Ian insisted, his amusement gone as he shook his head again. "And I don’t need babysitters either."

Fiona frowned and crossed her arms. “I know you don’t need a babysitter.”

“Then why does Carl think I’m not supposed to be alone? Why is Debbie telling people she’s in charge of me for the day?”

Fiona thought carefully before answering, not wanting to get tangled up in who said what. “I just asked everyone to make sure that you were okay and that you didn’t need anything. You just got discharged today and I knew you’d be run down. You know how Mon-”

“Not Monica,” Ian repeated, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t need to treat me like Monica or whisper around me like Monica. I didn’t slash my wrists over Thanksgiving dinner like Monica.”

Fiona huffed, her aggravation mounting. “Ian, you took off-”

“All I did was go for a little drive,” Ian corrected.

Unable to contain it any longer, Fiona snapped. “Jesus, Ian, you took a baby!”

“Yeah, I took him _for a drive_.” Ian said assertively, the volume of his voice climbing as quickly as he moved to sit up in the chair. “And I guess it was a really long drive and I didn’t plan ahead, but I never hurt that baby. I took care of the baby. I fed the baby. I sang to the baby. I _love_ that baby.”

He caught himself, inhaling a slow breath and sitting back as he ran his palms down the front of his thighs. "I’m not stupid, I get why everyone’s freaking out but you pulled some pretty serious shit not that long ago and no one wanted to permanently medicate you and watch you every minute.”

“I went to jail!” Fiona’s arms flew out, her hands pounding the air with every word.

“So did I,” Ian returned, his words cold to match his expression that was hardening like stone. “And now I’m out. I’m not Monica any more than you are.”

Fiona licked her lips and looked away, exasperated and shaking her head.

“I’m still me, Fiona.” Ian pointed to himself and stood up. “Me.” He repeated the word angrily and left her dumbfounded in the yard, alone.

*

Mandy hiked Liam up on her hip and scowled at the woman behind the pharmacy counter as she continued to give Debbie a hard time.

Straightening the lapels on her white lab coat, she looked down her nose at all three of them and slid the bag of empty bottles back across the counter. “You need a new prescription for refills.”

“I know,” Debbie pleaded, on the verge of tears as she picked the bag up and shook it. “And we called but my brother just got released from the hospital today and the doctor he saw isn’t on call and the only way he can get a new one is to go back, which he’s never going to agree to because he doesn’t want to take them!”

The woman shook her head and held her hands up helplessly, offering no other solutions.

“Listen.” Mandy handed Liam over to Debbie and stepped up to intervene. “I understand that that’s officially how it works but you know that these prescriptions are written for people who do _crazy_ shit, like flush all their pills down the toilet because they don’t wanna take them. So maybe, just this once, you can refill them because you know it’s the right thing to do instead of giving us a bunch of shit with your official line.”

Mandy saw a glimmer of hope when the woman’s glare softened and she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Officially, I could lose my job and go to jail if I do that. Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything unless you get those prescriptions.”

Mandy sighed and grabbed Debbie’s hand, pulling her along before abruptly turning back to bury her hand in the bowl of free lollipops. “Thanks for nothing,” she sneered over her shoulder as she stuffed her purse.

“Can I have one, can I have one?” Liam began jumping up and down and tugging on Mandy’s hand as soon as Debbie deposited him on the sidewalk. Mandy fanned a few of the lollipops out, allowing him to take his time in selecting the perfect one.

“That’s the fourth place that said no,” Debbie groaned as Liam examined all the wrappers. “What are we gonna do now?”

“This one,” Liam announced when he slid a cherry lollipop from the middle of the group. Mandy took the wrapper from him and handed Debbie an orange one, keeping the root beer one for herself.

“I don’t know.” Mandy popped the candy inside her cheek. “It would be a lot easier if he’d just go to the hospital and get a new one.”

“He won’t,” Debbie insisted. “He told me they make him feel awful.”

“I know, I thought he was gonna cry before he went upstairs.” Mandy crinkled her forehead, wracking her brain as they walked but not having any breakthrough ideas. “I guess I could text Mickey and see if he knows where to get this kind of stuff.”

“You think he knows someone?” Debbie asked hopefully.

“If he doesn’t, Iggy might. Gimme the bottles.” They stopped on the sidewalk while Mandy took pictures of both labels and sent them in a text message to Mickey on her phone.

_Your boyfriend flushed his meds. Know where to get more?_

“Wait and see I guess,” Mandy slid her phone back into her pocket just as Debbie’s chirped. She pulled it out of her bag and unlocked the screen, beaming as she read a message.

“It’s Derek. He wants to know how things went with Ian.” Debbie quickly tapped at her phone’s screen, laughing when it immediately alerted her to another text. “Awww, he’s so thoughtful.”

Mandy raised her brows and looked away, only half rolling her eyes. “Exactly how good of friends are you guys?”

“I told you.” Debbie paused, typing the last of her message before dropping her phone into her purse. “We just like each other.”

“Yeah, so,” Mandy emphasized the last word, wiggling her eyebrows. “What have you done with him?”

Mandy smirked when Debbie’s cheeks flushed and her protest came out in a squeak. “Nothing!”

“C’mon, it’s just me.” Mandy bumped her shoulder into Debbie. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Honestly, we haven’t done anything. Not that I don’t want to,” Debbie quickly added and grabbed Liam’s hand as they approached a street. “But he hasn’t made a move like that. I think maybe we’re going slow.”

“You’re better off going slow.” Mandy looked both ways before they entered the crosswalk. “That’s what I’ve always heard anyway. I can tell you from experience, going fast hasn’t worked out for me.”

Debbie shot her a concerned look. “No luck with a new boyfriend since Kenyatta went to jail?”

Mandy shook her head and crunched down on her lollipop, tossing the stick onto the ground. “I don’t even want a boyfriend right now.”

“But.” Debbie pulled her lollipop from her mouth, shaking her head in a double take. “Why _wouldn’t_ you want a boyfriend?”

Mandy smiled, amused by Debbie’s shock, and shrugged. “I’ve always had a boyfriend of some sort since I was your age,” she mumbled and looked down, her words sounding more regretful than she had intended.

“Yeah, and?”

“And,” Mandy drawled out, quickly covering her insecurity by lifting her head and pushing her hair back off her shoulders. “With no boyfriend around I’ve been thinking about doing other things that I didn’t care about before. Something for me, you know?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Mandy trailed off bashfully and glanced at Liam, who was singing an improv song into his lollipop about tigers and bears. “Maybe get my GED or something?”

Debbie nodded and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mandy smiled, feeling a little more confident at Debbie’s positive response. “I know it sounds stupid and it won’t make any difference or anything but at least I can say I have a diploma.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all. Fiona’s a lot older than you and she went back to get her GED.”

“True,” Mandy mused, kicking a rock that was in their path. “I actually forgot about that.” She reached back, feeling her phone vibrating in her pocket.

“Is it Mickey? Can he get the pills?” Debbie asked, trying to see the screen.

Mandy quickly read the text message, tilting her head back as she groaned. “No. It’s work. They want to know if I’ll work the night shift ‘cause someone called off.”

“You gonna do it? Fiona says late shifts are good for tips on the weekend.”

Mandy thought for a moment, and then tapped out a reply on her phone. “I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll use the extra money to pay for some classes, right?”

“Right.” Debbie nodded her head. “They have pamphlets and stuff in the office at school, I can grab you one on Monday if you want.”

Noticing her reflection in a store window they were passing, Mandy slowed her step and smiled at herself, liking what she saw. "Okay, cool."

*

Lip glanced over his shoulder, enjoying the breeze and the perfect view of Lake Michigan from Amanda’s parent’s patio. Turning back, he began cutting the last few bites of his food. “Thanks for dinner, this is really great, Mrs.-”

Cheryl waved him off, holding her napkin over her mouth as she finished chewing. “Please, Lip, I told you, just call me Cheryl.”

“Right.” Lip nodded. “Cheryl.”

“Marsha and Wendy.” Cheryl eyed her twin daughters across the table as they both pushed their food around on their plates. “If you’re not going to finish eating you can go have an hour or two of television before you have to get ready for bed.”

Cheryl watched both girls quickly rise to their feet, tripping over each other in their attempts to be the first into the house. “It’s a shame you still haven’t met Amanda’s sister, Lisa. You know, you should’ve come up more this summer. We grilled out here every Saturday night.” Cheryl gazed wistfully down at the water. “Won’t have many more meals out here soon.”

Jason looked at his wife in amusement. “You make it sound like you’re the one who actually does the grilling.”

Cheryl glared and Lip took a drink, washing down his last bite of steak while anticipating some type of retaliation for the remark.

“I could grill if I wanted to,” she replied haughtily. “I’m not the one who caught the side of the pool house on fire in Miami.”

Thoroughly intrigued by their banter, Lip glanced over at Amanda who was picking at some fruit, completely oblivious to the free entertainment.

“You _are_ the one who enjoyed re-decorating it, though,” Jason reminded, holding up his glass in a truce.

Cheryl picked up her wine glass, a twinkle in her eye when she clinked it to his in agreement and smiled. “Touché.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and Lip snickered to himself, causing Cheryl to turn her attention back to him. “Lip, Amanda says you’re an RA this year. How are you liking that?”

“It’s been great, hasn’t it, Lip?” Amanda grinned innocently and slid a strawberry off her fork.

Lip shook his head and looked down at the table, suppressing a laugh. “It’s been interesting, to say the least.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, swirling the ice in his glass. “Why would you willingly sign up to be a glorified babysitter?”

“Free room and board.” Lip shrugged, the idea not that trivial to him.

“Plus a stipend,” Amanda added, squeezing Lip’s knee under the table.

“Well, I think that’s commendable to figure out your own way,” Cheryl said.

Jason pushed his chair out and threw his napkin on the table. “Enough of the chit chat. Lip, do you want to come down to the workshop and see that car I was telling you about last time? I happen to have it here.”

“You mean the one you brought home because you knew he was coming?” Cheryl exchanged a smirk with Amanda as she took a sip of her wine.

“Yeah, I mean.” Lip paused, glancing over at Amanda, who nodded in encouragement. “Yeah, okay.”

“I love my wife and girls,” Jason spoke in a hushed voice as Lip followed him out to the separate building, easily big enough to be its own house in the South Side. “But sometimes I need to get away from all the estrogen, if you know what I mean. Even the dog is a girl.”

Jason pushed the door open and flicked on a panel of light switches, illuminating the open space that was covered in drawings and mechanical blueprints. “Okay. Here it is,” he announced proudly as he approached the small, white, compact car sitting on a table in the middle of the room. “This is a 1:8 scale model of an electric car that folds in on itself so it can fit and park in tight spaces.”

“Nice,” Lip breathed, leaning down to admire it closer.

“Yeah, the wheels, they turn separately so you can rotate and stay in one spot. Guess where the motor is?” Jason asked, his excitement bubbling through his words.

“Well...” Lip took his time, enjoying the challenge as he circled the table. “It’s not in the back, right?” Lip glanced up to see Jason shake his head. “Does it have air bags?”

Jason rocked up on his toes and grinned. “Yep.”

“Well, it’s definitely not in the front either.” Lip walked around to the front of the car and crouched down by the table, inspecting every inch. “Wait, are...are there engines in the wheels?”

“Yes!” Jason snapped his fingers and pointed to Lip at hearing the correct answer. “I knew you’d figure it out. There’s one in each wheel.”

“That’s.” Lip stood up and rubbed his chin, still in awe. “That’s _very_ fucking cool.”

Jason walked over and began rummaging through a drawer and turned back to Lip, holding a joint in his hand. “I’m assuming as a young delinquent, you smoke pot?”

“Mmhm, yep.” Lip scratched at his arm and looked around. “When I’m not shooting smack anyway.”

Jason crooked a finger, gesturing for Lip to follow him. They walked downhill on a landscaped path that opened up at the end of their property. Lip stepped down onto a stone patio that was built into the earth where the lake met a small, rocky cliff.

“Whoa,” Lip murmured as he walked out and looked over the edge at the shoreline. His eyes lifted and swept from side to side, taking in the panoramic view. “There really that much money in urine?”

“I actually have a couple decent patents. The urinal one is just the one my daughters like to give me shit about.” Jason cupped a hand over the joint and flicked his lighter a few times before he finally managed to light the end, puffing on it before offering it to Lip.

"You're uh." Lip accepted but looked back at the house on the hill behind them. "You're not worried about your wife seeing us?"

Jason exhaled a gray cloud and scoffed. "Cheryl was a trust fund baby with a coke habit when I met her. She doesn't care about some weed as long as I don't do it in front of the girls."

"Alright then," Lip nodded, equally awed and impressed as he hit the joint.

“What classes are you taking this semester? Not the bullshit ones, the real ones.”

Lip handed the joint back and exhaled. “Calc 2, Thermodynamics, Intro to Mass Transfer. I really want to get into the aerospace engineering program at school.”

“So what did you do this summer? Amanda said you worked but she never said where.”

Lip shrugged, glancing back out over the water. “I did construction.”

“Really?” Jason took a step back in surprise. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for that. Did you do architectural or more at the ground level, like developing building materials?”

“More at the very ground level,” Lip admitted, pushing his shirt down when a gust of wind blew it up. “Mostly breaking shit up and hauling cement around in a wheelbarrow.”

Jason coughed a little, his face contorting in confusion. “Why?”

Lip paused, hitting the joint and handing it back. “'Cause it was close to home and it paid money.”

Jason scoffed and and shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I can get you an internship next summer at my firm. One that pays decent money.”

Lip’s mind raced for a moment, thinking of the doors something like that could open for him. “I’ll have to see where I’m at then.”

Jason sucked on the joint, shooting Lip a disbelieving look. “What’s there to think about? I would have jumped at that opportunity when I was a sophomore.”

“I would, I mean, I’d love to but I just don’t know how things are going to be then.”

“Are you trying to tell me you might break up with Amanda?” Jason raised a brow and looked away as he exhaled. “You’re bright, Lip. Interning with me would be a mutually beneficial thing. The girls would all roast me but the offer would still stand.”

“No, no. Amanda and I are good,” Lip rolled the joint between his fingers, looking away when he noticed Jason was still waiting for an explanation. “It’s just I got a lot going on with my family right now. My little brother Ian, he was just diagnosed with bipolar and we’re…” Lip avoided elaborating by taking a quick puff. “We’re not sure how it's going to play out just yet.”

“What do you mean? What does that have to do with the job?”

Lip sighed, handing the joint back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s only been a week since we found out, well, found out for sure, but I already feel fucking guilty for being at school and not at home. Ian’s been going around with this for awhile and he doesn’t want to believe it, even though he should because our mom has the same damn thing. We know what it looks like, you know?”

Lip paused, casting his eyes to the ground. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I was there. I mean, fuck, I was there all summer and didn’t do anything about it. But even if I couldn’t help him, I know I could at least be there for everyone else.” He avoided making eye contact, aware that Jason was witnessing all his thoughts tumble out of his mouth, unable to stop them even if he wanted to.

“My sister Fiona’s finally off probation but she’s trying to float a family of five by working at a diner and then there’s the younger ones, Debbie and Carl. They’re still in school, for now, but we already caught Carl selling weed and I know Fiona’s worried about Debbie starting high school and having sex. Girls from our neighborhood don’t have the best track records when it comes to getting knocked up. And then there’s Liam, he’s too little to even know what’s going on with everyone else but he’s starting regular preschool next week and that’s a _huge_ deal ‘cause we didn’t even know if he was gonna talk six months ago.” Lip took a breath when his voice cracked, swallowing hard at the tightening in his throat. “There’s just so much going on and Fiona keeps telling me I have to be at school because that’s where I’ll make a difference. But at the same time, I know they need me there now the most, if not more than ever.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, Jason following Lip’s line of sight out over the water. He flicked the joint over the edge onto the rocks and looked back to Lip. “Can I tell you what I think?”

Lip kept his eyes trained ahead and nodded, rubbing at his nose.

“I get why you’re torn, and as admirable as that conflict is, if you put your life on hold so that you can be there for theirs, you might end up missing out on your own. You’re headed for a serious career, Lip. I think you already know how you can make a real difference for them.” Jason turned away, stepping up onto the lawn. “Just keep it in mind. I’m gonna go grab us a couple beers from inside and I’ll be back.”

Lip nodded and walked out to the edge of the patio, his high settling in as his eyes followed the ripples on the lake, noticing the way the setting sun painted every little peak. He glanced back at the green lawn and massive house and sat down in one of the lounge chairs, rubbing his hands over his face.

He had too much to keep in mind.

*  
Fiona pushed her finger into the casserole to test the temperature and closed the oven door. “Few more minutes and we should be good.”

“We went to four different pharmacies, every one said the same thing.” Debbie looked over her shoulder from where she was taking plates down from the cupboard. “No refills without a new prescription.”

“I figured as much, but thanks for trying.” Fiona sighed and filled her glass with water. “The doctor who knows him is on call tomorrow. I’m hopin’ if I talk to her, she’ll do something for us. She’s the one who said to make sure he keeps takin’ them.”

“I feel bad. I didn’t even know he was awake when I came home from the gym.”

“It’s okay, Debs. It’s hard to keep an eye on someone who doesn’t want you breathin’ down their neck.”

“Mandy texted Mickey, to see if he could get them anywhere or knew someone but we never heard back.”

“What the fuck is goin’ on with that?” Fiona turned to look at Debbie and lowered her voice. “Did Mandy say anything to you?”

Debbie glanced behind her, ensuring they were still alone, and whispered. “No. I tried to ask but she said he had a family thing then caught herself when she said he was working. We all know, Mickey does _not_ have a job. You think he’s gonna break up with Ian over this?”

Fiona opened her mouth but then closed it, she and Debbie breaking apart and scattering when they heard footsteps thumping down the kitchen stairs.

“He says he’s still not hungry,” Mandy said, looking between Fiona and Debbie, who were trying hard to busy themselves in the kitchen. “Were you, um, were you talking about me?”

“No!” Fiona spoke up, knowing it was a little too eager when Mandy frowned and looked away. “We were just talkin’ about,” Fiona paused, looking to Debbie for help. “Talking about you and Debs tryin’ to get Ian’s pills.”

“Uh-huh.” Mandy replied unconvincingly and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Put those on the table.” Fiona nudged Debbie and pointed to the plates she had taken out. “Mandy, we’re getting ready to eat dinner.”

“Okay.” Mandy looked away, chewing at her lip. “I guess I’ll go home then.”

“You don’t wanna stay?” Fiona asked, glancing up from where she was sliding the pan from the oven. “There’s plenty of food. No sense in you going back to an empty house to cook for yourself.”

“Yeah, we’re eating that casserole I made,” Debbie added proudly, tugging on Mandy’s sleeve. “Stay.”

Mandy walked slowly to the counter, the corner of her mouth turning up. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Fiona gave her a nod and dipped the serving spoon into the corner of the glass dish, walking around to set it down in the center of the table. “What all did he say up there?”

“Not much. He’s not hungry. He’s tired.” Mandy scooted behind all the chairs to sit down at the back of the table before offering hopefully, “He did drink all the water I took up there earlier.”

Fiona put her hands on her hips, blowing some stray hairs out of her face. “Yeah. That seems about right.” She glanced at the clock that read 5:45 and tried not to dwell on the second dose of meds that Ian was missing. “Let’s just eat. I told Carl to be here at 6, but I’m starvin’.”

“Do you want me to wake Liam up?” Debbie peeked into the living room where Liam was passed out on the couch, one foot dangling off a cushion.

“Nah.” Fiona waved her hand. “Let him sleep, he can have some cereal before bed and we can have a quiet grown up dinner for once. But take this up to Ian real quick.”

She filled a glass with water and handed it to Debbie before sitting down across from Mandy. She scooped some of the casserole onto a plate and passed it over. “You still workin’ at Waffle Cottage?”

“Yep.” Mandy nodded, pushing her hair back and taking a bite. “I work a lot of overnights but the money’s alright.”

“Yeah, Patsy’s isn’t my dream job either but it’s nice to walk out of there with cash every day.”

“Mmhm,” Mandy agreed while chewing her food. ”I thought about applying somewhere else but I don’t wanna learn a new menu and I already know everyone. ”

Fiona nodded and went to take a bite but stopped, fork hanging in mid-air. “You know, I just want to say thanks for helping with Ian today and going with Debs to the drug stores and stuff.”

Mandy looked up from her plate, her eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah, sure.”

“I know you didn’t have to do all that and I appreciate it. You may have been doin’ it for Ian but it really helped me out, too.”

They exchanged smiles, the moment being rushed along when Debbie came back downstairs. “He’s sleeping again. I left it up there.”

“Okay,” Fiona pointed to Debbie’s plate and smiled. “Enjoy your dinner. I got the dishes tonight because you cooked.”

“I was wondering.” Mandy ran her finger around the rim of her cup, her eyes flicking over to Fiona. “How hard was the GED test?”

Fiona’s eyebrows lifted in interest as she chewed, but was distracted by the ringing of her phone. “Hold that thought,” she said and slid away from the table, trying to swallow her mouth full of food before answering.

“Hello.”

“May I speak with Fiona Gallagher?”

Hearing the formal voice on the other end, Fiona turned her back, walking into the quieter living room. “This is her,” she replied hesitantly.

“Ms. Gallagher, I’m Officer Ramirez from the Illinois Department of Corrections, Juvenile Justice Division.”

“Yeah,” Fiona answered weakly, bringing her fingers up to her mouth and chewing a nail.

“We have your brother here, Carl Gallagher. We picked him up with a sizeable amount of marijuana on him.”

“Shit,” Fiona muttered. “What are you holdin’ him on?”

“Possession with intent to sell.”

Fiona shook her head at hearing what she’d been dreading and turned to stare at Debbie and Mandy, still eating and laughing.

"Hello? Ms. Gallagher?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here,” she stuttered. “Where is he at?”

Fiona scribbled down the address and ended the call, running her hands back through her hair as she walked back into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Debbie asked, taking in Fiona’s blank eyes and open mouth.

Fiona worked her mouth to speak, trying a few times before she managed to utter the words. “I gotta go.” Fiona shook her head and repeated it again. “I gotta go.” She sprung into action, frantically grabbing her purse and clutching the address in her hand as she moved toward the back door.

Debbie stood up, hooking Fiona’s arm. “Where are you going?”

“Carl got picked up by the cops.” Fiona still couldn’t believe it as she looked between Debbie and Mandy. “I’ll call you when I know more. Just stay here with Ian and Liam.”

Fiona was halfway down the steps when she glanced back, seeing Debbie and Mandy come out onto the back porch, watching her leave.

*

Ian sat alone on the front steps, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Feeling eyes on him, he glanced back, irritated at the sight of Debbie’s silhouette through the glowing curtains that were falling closed.

He picked up his phone and unlocked it, the screen illuminating his face as he checked again for any messages that he might have missed, but there weren’t any. Just the same voicemails from earlier. He swiped his thumb along the screen, going into the text messages and missed calls menu just to make sure. Nothing. He tossed the phone next to him and pulled his knees up to his chest, taking another drag but still unable to completely pull his attention away. He glanced over at the phone and gave in.

Ian exhaled and hit the voicemail button, quickly entering his password and bracing himself for the onslaught of messages he’d been avoiding all day.

“Ian, pick up the fuckin’ phone and call me back.” Mickey’s voice was desperate and distraught in his ear, almost taking Ian’s breath away as he stared across the street, unblinking. There was a pause and then another was playing.

“Ian,” Mickey said slowly, Ian discerning the panic behind the calm front. “Just bring Yev back and we can talk. You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, okay? Just come back and everything will be cool.”

Ian sat there and listened to them, each one adding to the crushing weight already in his chest. Mickey demanding, then pleading, then bargaining, desperate for Ian to call him back and bring Yevgeny home. Fighting back tears, Ian began to delete them, all of them. Not wanting to hear the pained voices of Mickey, Fiona, Lip, everyone. He went straight down the list, pausing when he noticed the club’s number at the bottom and pressed play.

“Hey Ian, It’s Chad.” Ian tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, taking a pull on his cigarette. “I didn’t want to do this over voicemail but you won’t answer your phone and I don’t want you to show up tomorrow and things be awkward. I think we’ve been pretty understanding in the past with your attendance issues but after two no shows in a row, I’m gonna have to let you go. The thing with your boyfriend didn’t help matters much either.”

Ian wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

Chad continued, “Everyone knows Todd’s an asshole, but your boyfriend can’t just come in here and beat the shit out of someone whenever he feels like it. He’s lucky Todd’s not pressing charges. Like I said, sorry to do it this way but we just feel like it’s for the best if we end it here."

“Alright, shithead.” Mickey was suddenly in his ear again, a message playing that he must have missed. “This is like the two hundredth time I’m callin’ and you not pickin’ up, I’m starting to get fuckin’ homicidal. Call me the fuck back, Ian.”

Ian held the phone down, finger over the delete button when he heard Mickey’s far away voice still playing through the earpiece. “I’m worried about you. I love you.”

Ian froze at what he thought he heard and dragged the player back a few seconds, lifting his finger and bringing the phone back to his ear.

“I’m starting to get fuckin’ homicidal. Call me the fuck back, Ian.”

He waited, hearing what sounded like rustling on the other end before there it was, a crystal clear recording of Mickey's voice breaking. “I’m worried about you. I love you.”

Ian's eyes blurred as he dragged the player back another time. "I’m worried about you. I love you." There was another pause, Ian's eyes failing to blink back the streaming tears when he heard Mickey sniffle on the other end and take a breath before begging. "Call me back."

Ian stared at nothing, his heart pounding and his cheeks hot at hearing the confession. He pulled up Mickey's number and pressed send, disappointed when the call went directly to voicemail, a sign that Mickey had turned his phone off. Ian still waited for the prompt, opening his mouth to speak, but quickly hung up when he didn’t know what to say.

Pulling his shirt up to dry his eyes and face, he stood and gathered himself, hardening his expression for anyone he might come up against inside the house. It was quiet and empty as he climbed the stairs for what felt like the thousandth time that day, his feet heavy and his legs aching.

Down the hall, Ian could see Debbie had Liam tucked into bed with her, reading to him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Grateful to be alone, Ian closed the bedroom door and climbed into bed, pulling the covers up as he turned to face the wall. Hot tears were filling his eyes when he heard the creak of the door.

“I’m fine, Debs.” Ian quickly wiped at his face and swallowed when his voice came out wet and weak.

“Hey.”

Ian's eyes popped open at hearing the voice that had been echoing in his mind. He turned back to see Mickey standing in the doorway, hair rumpled and clothes wrinkled.

“Hey.” Ian sat up, blinking a few times, wanting to make sure Mickey was real.

Mickey took a few steps into the room, the light of the lamp revealing dark shadows under his eyes and stubble on his face. “Heard you flushed your pills.”

"That why you're here?" Ian self-consciously rubbed at his eyes and tightened his jaw. “I tried calling you. Where’ve you been?”

Mickey shrugged a shoulder, his gaze never leaving Ian’s face. “Moving job.”

“I know the moving truck thing is dead, Mick.” Ian reminded him, shaking his head and looking away. “If you don’t wanna-”

“Not that kind of move, the old kind of move.” Mickey cut him off and swiped his thumb at the corner of his mouth, giving Ian a pointed look and sighing. “Look, the money’s runnin' out and I had to go out of state for a couple days. I didn’t tell you cause you have enough shit to worry about.”

Ian furrowed his brow as the events started to click into place. Mickey not visiting, Mandy making excuses, Mickey sounding weird on the phone and not answering his calls.

“I got fired,” Ian admitted, as if Mickey having to do runs again wasn’t discouraging enough. Ian watched Mickey shift his weight from foot to foot before he explained. “For not showing up, not ‘cause you fucked up Todd.”

Mickey's eyes dropped to the floor and his mouth twitched nervously. "I went down there when you didn't come home. He was runnin' his mouth, sayin' stupid shit and-" Mickey stopped himself, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter now anyway. I told you, I took care of it. We don’t have to worry about money for awhile.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Mickey assured, looking up through his lashes. He closed the distance between them until his knees were resting against the mattress. “How long you plannin’ on stayin’ here?”

“Don’t know.” Ian fidgeted with his hands before reaching out and tugging on the hem of Mickey’s shirt, pulling him down. Mickey peeled off his sweatshirt and went willingly, kicking his shoes off as he curled up next to Ian.

Ian scooted closer, eyes following his finger as it traced a cracked elephant ear on Mickey's shirt. "Stay with me."

Mickey licked his lips, hesitantly brushing his thumb over Ian’s cheek. "You don't wanna get away from me?"

Ian closed his eyes at the touch, wrapping his fingers around Mickey's wrist and holding him there. "I was worried you wanted to get away from me."

"I'm sorry," Mickey whispered and pressed a kiss to Ian's forehead. Ian fought the heat behind his eyes when Mickey's lips lingered there, murmuring against his skin. "I'm sorry I'm late. I should've been here with you." Mickey slid his lips down to Ian’s temple, ignoring the tears now freely flowing.

"I don't need the pills. I’m better now." Ian's voice faltered as he shook his head. "I don't wanna take the pills, Mickey. I don’t wanna take 'em."

"I know," Mickey soothed by Ian's ear, stroking his hair back and nuzzling into him closer. "I know."

Ian hid his face in Mickey’s neck and crumbled, relief washing over him as Mickey held him tighter.


	8. Falling Together Or Falling Apart

Mickey woke up slowly as he became aware of a dull pain in his shoulder. He was wedged uncomfortably against the wall, the bed not nearly big enough for both of them to be lying on their backs. He stretched his legs toward the foot of the bed, his toes curling as he felt the satisfying pull of the muscles, and he exhaled deeply as he turned his back to the wall, draping an arm over Ian’s abdomen.

Mickey planted a tired kiss on Ian’s shoulder before pulling him closer and nuzzling into his side as he drifted off again, barely entering unconsciousness when he was jolted awake by the sensation of Ian suddenly sitting up.

“They’re coming,” Ian panted, throwing the thin blanket off of them. He crawled over to the window on his knees, pulling the blinds apart and peering out, the sunlight casting a pale glow over his face.

“Who?” Mickey mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he watched Ian scan the front yard.

“MPs. They’re coming for me. I gotta hide.” Ian scrambled off the bed, his foot getting twisted in the sheet. He kicked it off and grabbed the doorframe as he craned his neck to check around the corner. “Get up, come on.”

“The fuck are you talkin’ about? Come back to bed,” Mickey called after him. Ian ignored him, shuffling down the hallway and sticking his head in each of the rooms before darting down the stairs.

Mickey hopped out of bed and followed, confusion and concern forming a pit in his stomach. He trotted quickly down the stairs, attempting to wake up enough to deal with whatever was going on.

When he reached the landing he found Ian crouched down before the front window, scanning the yard the same way he had done upstairs, a baseball bat clutched in his right hand.

“Ian, what the hell are you doing?” Mickey scratched at the back of his head as he eyed Ian suspiciously.

“They’re gonna take me away.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Fiona asked, buttoning her shirt as she entered the living room.

Ian moved to the window beside the TV, surveying the empty lot next door. “MPs found me. We can’t let them in.”

Fiona’s eyes went to Mickey for confirmation and he shook his head, telling her Ian’s fears were unfounded. She turned back to Ian uneasily. “Ian…”

Ian hurried over to the opposite end of the couch, planting his palms firmly against the armrest. “Help me push the couch in front of the door so they can’t get in.”

“I’m sleeping,” Frank said into the couch cushion. “Put a lid on the crazy.”

Mickey took the last few stairs and watched Ian from behind the couch as he tried to shove the piece of furniture toward the door. “We don’t need to block the fucking door, man. Nobody’s trying to get in.”

“They’re coming,” Ian mumbled breathlessly as he abandoned his couch mission and treaded cautiously into the kitchen. “They’re fucking coming. They’re right outside, they’re here for me. They’re gonna arrest me.”

“Ian, calm down,” Fiona said as she followed him, trying to sound composed.

Mickey was right behind her, watching as Ian cracked open the door and peered out beneath the chain lock. “No one’s comin’,” Mickey told him. “No one’s gonna take you away.”

“They’re out there, they’re coming for me.”

“Somebody muzzle that kid!” Frank shouted from the living room as Ian shut the door and turned the deadbolt, his fingers gripping the lock tightly as if turning it further would make it more difficult for anyone to enter.

Ian spun around when he heard the bathroom door open, swinging the bat on instinct. It collided with the wooden door, the sound of the smack dulled by Fiona’s scream. Mickey jumped, cursing under his breath as he watched the color drain from Debbie’s face, only inches away from where the bat had met the door.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment; Fiona’s hands covering her mouth in shock, Debbie staring slack-jawed at the bat in Ian’s hands, Ian gaping back at her as his erratic breathing filled the silence of the room.

After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few seconds, Mickey propelled himself into action, stepping between Ian and Debbie into Ian’s line of sight. He snatched the bat out of his hands and grabbed the back of Ian’s neck, forcing Ian to look at him.

“Hey. Hey, listen to me.” He reached out to open the back door and Ian flinched, preparing for an attack. “There is nobody out there, fuckin’ look.”

Mickey watched the uncertainty set in on Ian’s face, the paranoia still evident in the form of his balled up fists. He grabbed Ian’s arm and pulled him across the house, his fingers digging into his bicep. “Get over here,” Mickey said, his voice harsh. “Get over here.”

“Ian,” Fiona pleaded as she followed them into the living room. “Ian, it’s only gonna get worse.”

“Stop babying him, for the love of God,” Frank grumbled from his place on the couch.

Mickey ignored him, heading straight to the front door and swinging it open. “Look.”

Ian brought his hands up to his head, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he followed Mickey’s gaze out the door. The neighborhood was calm, quiet, not even a car driving by. Mickey watched with wide eyes as Ian’s face fell, the realization bringing a newfound calmness to his demeanor.

Mickey ran a comforting hand along Ian’s shoulder as he closed the door and brushed past him back into the living room, swiping a shaky hand over his chin. He looked at Debbie and Fiona’s worried faces across the room, able to read their thoughts with ease.

“We gotta go to the clinic,” he said as Ian made his way slowly back into the room, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Get you some meds so you can stop freakin’ out about shit that’s not there.”

“I thought they were there,” Ian snapped. “They could’ve been.”

“I know.” Mickey curled his fingers gently around the nape of Ian’s neck. “Hey, I get it, it’s okay. But you don’t need to be gettin’ this worked up about somethin’ that ain’t real.”

Ian looked down, shaking his head at the floor. “It felt real.”

“Meds are supposed to help with that, right? We need to go, Ian. Today.” Ian tensed, staring at the back of the couch to avoid every eye in the room. Mickey rubbed at the taut muscles in Ian’s neck in an attempt to get him to acknowledge him. “Alright?”

Ian gave a curt nod. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Want me to come?”

Ian turned to head up the stairs. “No,” he replied quietly, his back to the room.

“I gotta piss anyway-”

“Piss down here then.” The words came out monotone but Mickey could sense Ian’s aggravation. He lingered on the bottom step as he watched him disappear up the stairs, his words leaving a sting.

“Let me tell you somethin’, Mickey.” Frank’s gruff voice snapped Mickey out of his trance. He spun around to see Frank sitting up, his forearms resting on the back of the couch. “Medication is produced by money hungry corporations and prescribed by money hungry doctors and sold by money hungry pharmacies. It’s got nothing to do with what will help the patients, doctors don’t give a shit about that. You think anyone becomes a doctor to help people? I can guarantee you every single doctor out there does it for the fat paycheck.”

Fiona closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shut up, Frank.”

“Trust me. Those meds don’t do a damn thing to help. They just take away every bit of personality you’ve got and then give you nasty side effects. Why? So that you’ll buy more medication to offset the side effects. It’s an endless cycle designed to make the rich richer. A goddamn conspiracy is what it is.”

“Monica never took her meds long enough for you to have the authority to give any opinion on them,” Fiona interjected, narrowing her eyes at Frank’s incessant rambling.

“She tried, because you selfish little brats wanted her to,” Frank sneered. He stood up, walking around the couch to point a finger in Fiona’s face. “And why did she stop? Because they didn’t do shit. She wasn’t her when she was popping that capitalist garbage into her mouth. Made her feel like death, just like the big wigs want, so she would go back for something else.” He stepped back and shook his head, laughing in annoyance. “That’s the problem with all you kids, you don’t question the system. This whole generation thinks the government and corporate America are there to help us. You and your inane trust, that’s what’s going to be this country’s downfall.”

“Thanks for the words of wisdom. I think ya used up your yearly quota of talk time.” She smiled sarcastically and raised her eyebrows, extending a hand toward the front door. “You need me to show you the way out?”

“Oh, excuse me for trying to offer up some fatherly advice on a topic I have experience with. I’m trying to help this young man save his lover from becoming an emotionless robot.” He stepped over to Mickey, clapping a hand on his back as he eyed Fiona challengingly. Mickey cringed and pulled away from Frank’s touch.

Fiona groaned. “I don’t have time for this today, Frank. What the hell are you even doing here? How’d you get in?”

“Someone left the back door unlocked. Someone kind enough to give their father a place to sleep, out of the shrill, bone-numbing cold.”

“Well, we’ll be sure not to do that again. And it’s September. Maybe if you sleep outside long enough, you’ll build up a tolerance by the time January hits.” Fiona dropped her phony smile and jabbed her pointed finger in the direction of the door. “Out.”

Mickey opened the front door again, lifting his eyebrows impatiently. “You heard her, Frank. Adios.”

Frank scowled at Mickey and waved a hand at his family as he made his way out the door. “Don’t even offer me breakfast, you goddamn-”

Mickey slammed the door behind him and ran a hand over his face. He stepped back into the living room, biting his lip as he threw a glance toward the staircase.

“Fuck, I’m so gonna be late,” Fiona sighed as she checked her watch. She turned to look at Debbie, who had been standing frozen at the entrance to the kitchen. “Debs, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” She nodded reassuringly before glancing over her shoulder. “Where’d Liam go?”

“Shit.” Fiona ran a hand through her hair as she did a quick scan of the otherwise vacant living room. “Liam?”

Debbie searched the kitchen as Fiona checked the closet and Mickey stood idly by, chewing at his nails and resisting the urge to gravitate up the stairs to Ian.

“Think I found him,” he announced when he saw Liam’s face peeking out from behind the chair in the corner.

Fiona looked up from where she was crouched beneath the staircase and followed his gaze to Liam squeezing out of his hiding spot.

“Come here, sweetie.” He crept over to her and she wrapped him up in her arms, stroking the back of his head soothingly. She carried him into the kitchen and Mickey followed, not sure what else to do. “You’re okay. Ya hungry? Maybe Debs can make you some breakfast, huh? That sound good?”

Debbie leaned against the table, narrowing her eyes at Fiona. “There’s nothing but crumbs and mouse turds, what do you expect me to make?”

“I know,” Fiona sighed as she put Liam down. “We’re in desperate need of some groceries so you’ll have to scrounge up whatever you can find, alright?”

Mickey took a mug from the cupboard, setting it down again in defeat when he found the coffee pot empty. “It’s cool, I can make somethin’. What do you say, big man?” he asked as Liam climbed onto a stool at the counter. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Liam looked thoughtful. “A sandwich!”

“What kind of sandwich?”

“My sandwich.”

“Bacon, egg, and peanut butter,” Fiona helped while she gripped the back of a chair, squeezing her feet into a pair of black heels. “Except we don’t have bacon or peanut butter or bread.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Oh you mean the fucking disgusting Ian breakfast special. Don’t let your brother teach you gross shit like that.” He turned to examine the contents of the fridge, finding it almost completely bare. “How’s some scrambled eggs sound?”

Liam wrinkled his nose. “We had scrambled eggs yesterday. I want yolk eggs!”

“We don’t have toast to dip in the yolk, sweetie,” Fiona told him as she walked over to plant a kiss on the top of his head. “I know you won’t eat it without toast. It’s either scrambled eggs or leftover spaghetti from last night.”

“Spaghetti!”

Fiona rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked over to Mickey, gripping his forearm as she leaned in. “The spaghetti has to pass as dinner again tonight so talk him into the eggs, will ya?”

“Got it.” Fiona nodded her thanks and Mickey raised an eyebrow as she walked away. He grabbed the eggs out of the fridge while Fiona gathered up her purse from atop the dishwasher. “Diner get a new dress code?”

“I got a meetin’ with my PO and then I’m goin’ to see Carl.”

“Tell him not to make eye contact with anyone on the inside,” Mickey said, grabbing a frying pan out of the sink and swiping a finger over it to determine its cleanliness. He caught Fiona’s glare out of the corner of his eye. “It’s a joke.”

“Real funny,” Fiona replied dryly. She slung her purse over her shoulder and placed her hands on her hips as she turned to where Debbie was seated at the table, typing on her phone. “I gotta go. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good. Tell Carl I said hey.”

“Will do.” She waved a hand at Liam as she turned to head toward the front door. “Bye, munchkin.”

“Bye, Fi.”

Mickey turned back to the fridge and pulled open the crispers, searching for anything to make Liam’s breakfast edible.

“Check it out, man,” he said, emerging with a Ziploc bag in his hand. “We got shredded cheese. You ever eat cheese in your scrambled eggs?”

Liam shook his head. “But sometimes I put ketchup on them.”

“Cheese makes ‘em taste way better.” Mickey grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and began cracking all of the remaining eggs into it, taking Liam’s lack of objection as resignation. “Cheese makes anything taste better. Words to live by.”

“Not candy,” Liam said plainly.

“Yeah, probably not candy.”

“Or pancakes.”

“Never tried it.”

“Or chocolate cake with vanilla frosting.” Liam giggled loudly, thoroughly amused with himself.

“He means it makes  _some_  things taste better,” Debbie intervened, standing up to tickle Liam into another fit of giggles. “I think I hear Sesame Street. Want to go watch it until breakfast is ready?”

Liam’s laughter ceased and he listened intently to the soft sounds coming from the next room. “Elmo’s World!” he shouted as he scrambled off the stool and bolted into the living room.

Debbie slid into Liam’s vacant seat and Mickey bit his lip, feeling inclined to say something. “Sorry he almost Sammy Sosa’d your brains all over the wall.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

Mickey shrugged. “Should’ve been keeping an eye on him. Maybe I should sleep on the other side of the bed or somethin’, I don’t know.”

“So you’re just gonna keep him on lockdown until he’s better?”

“What choice do I have?” he said as he rummaged through the drawers. “What if next time it’s Liam’s skull that he’s crackin’?”

“Below that one, all the way in the back.”

Mickey followed her directions and found what he was looking for, pulling out the whisk and going back to the bowl of eggs. “Or worse, Fiona’s? Who’s gonna take care of you anklebiters if Ian turns her into a fucking carrot?”

Debbie pursed her lips, telling Mickey he had a point. “He really almost hit me, huh?”

”You were half a second away from eating the rest of your meals through a straw.”

She glanced thoughtfully toward the stairs and lowered her voice slightly. “Didn’t seem like he wants to go to the clinic.”

“Gotta get him the meds, right? Whether he wants to or not.” He spoke matter-of-factly, but the latter sentence left a bad taste in his mouth; like Ian was incapable of his own decisions. Or not allowed to them. He turned on the burner and poured the beaten eggs into the frying pan. “You want cheese in yours?”

“Sure.” Debbie twirled her hair in her fingers, twisting it tightly and then letting it go, watching it quickly unravel. “Who says he’s gonna take them this time? Monica hated taking hers. You don’t think Ian’s thinking about that?”

“Yeah, well, Ian’s got me. He’ll take them.”

“Monica had Frank.” Mickey glanced up at her to gauge her sincerity. They both cracked into wide smiles when their eyes met, chuckling at the joke.

They sat in silence for a moment as Debbie texted and Mickey cooked, sprinkling the cheese over the fluffy eggs. He looked over at the clock on the microwave, mentally calculating when Ian should be back down.

“What’s the kid’s deal, anyway?” he asked Debbie, tilting his head head toward the living room. “He always disappear like that?”

Debbie shrugged, unfazed. “He hides when he’s scared.”

Her eyes remained fixed on her phone, but Mickey stared at her, lifting his chin at her response. He swallowed uncomfortably as his eyes flicked over to the stairs for what felt like the hundredth time, waiting for Ian to emerge.

*

Fiona picked at the chipped polish on her nails as she sat across from her probation officer, unable to stay focused on their current meeting. Her thoughts drifted from one sibling to the next. She wondered if Ian and Mickey were at the clinic yet, wondered if Ian would even still be willing to go. Her mind then shifted to Carl sitting in a cell, his future uncertain, before Gail’s words broke through her thoughts.

“So, you canceled our last meeting because something was going on with your brother Ian, correct? How are things now?”

“Uh, well, not great but we’re workin’ on it. When I canceled our last appointment it was because he had run off with his boyfriend’s baby and was, um...” Fiona paused, searching for a way to make the situation seem less dire. “Detained in Indiana.”

“For leaving the baby alone in a hot car.” Fiona looked up at her in surprise, unaware she would know the details. “I have my ways,” Gail explained.

“Right. Well, we had to go pick him up and check him into the hospital where they diagnosed him as bipolar, same as my mom, so we’ve been dealin’ with that. But I got it under control,” she added, trying to sound convincing.

“I should hope so. And your brother Carl has a knack for sales?” Gail looked down at a file in her hands. “I hear lemonade stands do well this time of year.”

“He’s not a bad kid, he just does stupid shit.”

“I get that. I’ve  _seen_  that. A lot of it.” Gail sat the file on her desk and leaned back in her chair, smirking at Fiona. “Sounds a little like you, actually.”

“Jesus, don’t tell him that.”

“I’m sure he’s a good kid. Let’s just hope he learns from this. It’s his first offense. If he’s lucky, he’ll get a lenient judge and sneak by with no time served.”

Fiona snorted, knowing Carl all too well. “Less about bein’ lucky and more about bein’ smart.”

Gail hummed in agreement. “That too.” She sighed, flipping the file closed and looking seriously at Fiona. “But smart or not, lucky or not, he  _was_  arrested. A thirteen year old boy in your care, caught with enough marijuana to hit him with an intent to sell charge.”

She crossed one leg over the other and tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling ashamed. “I’m not expectin’ my trophy to come in the mail anytime soon.”

“I’m not chastising you, I’m just putting you on alert. CPS had a watchful eye on you already, and now they’ll have two.”

Fiona leaned forward and rested her forearms on the desk, Gail’s warning stirring up a feeling of unease. “I can’t lose those kids, Ms. Johnson.”

“There’s no reason for us to worry about that yet. Just try to keep a low profile from here on out. We don’t need any more strikes against you, not if we want to find you something better.”

“Somethin’ better?” Fiona cocked an eyebrow as Gail walked over to a filing cabinet, pulling open a drawer and coming up with a thin booklet.

“I know you have to go meet with the lawyer but I think we’ve got enough time to squeeze this in,” she said as she handed the booklet to Fiona. “It’s an aptitude test.”

“Aptitude test? For what?”

“For your future. The diner isn’t forever, Fiona. You need to have a course of action planned.”

Fiona eyed the paper skeptically. “I had a monitor on my ankle a few months ago. You really think someone’s gonna hire me already?”

“I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But it’ll be impossible if you don’t try. This will tell us what direction to go. What areas we should be looking in.”

“I’ll pretty much take anythin’. Can’t be picky when the amount of each paycheck determines how much ya get to eat that week.”

“I know, but you’ll have a better chance if we find something you’re good at. Something you’ll enjoy and can excel at.” Gail reached across the desk and grabbed a pencil, extending it to Fiona. “So we start here.”

Fiona read the words across the top again.  _Career Aptitude Test_. She smiled to herself and accepted the pencil. “So it’s really possible to be someone after all the shit I pulled? Didn’t think life gave second chances to criminals.”

“Life doesn’t give second chances to anyone. You just gotta make some for yourself.”

*

Debbie sat cross-legged next to Veronica on the living room floor, ignoring Liam’s small feet resting on her shoulders. She tried to soothe the fussy baby in her arms while Veronica supported a content Amy with one hand, a jar of processed sweet potatoes in the other.

“What’s wrong, Gemma?” Debbie asked as she laid the infant down to check her diaper.

Veronica opened the jar and sat it on the floor in front of her, dipping the spoon in and feeding a bite to Amy before turning to watch Debbie. “I just changed her fifteen minutes ago, there’s no way-”

“Apparently there is,” Debbie said. She reached for the box of wipes and grabbed a new diaper out of the diaper bag.

“Eww, Amy!” Liam exclaimed from the couch, and Veronica and Debbie both looked to see the bright orange food dribbling down Amy’s chin and onto her shirt. “Gross!”

“Jesus, between this and the snot coming out of this kid she’s like a fucking fountain,” Veronica said as she accepted a burp cloth from Debbie. She tried to feed Amy another spoonful only for the baby to make a disgruntled face and swat the spoon out of her hand.

“Doesn’t look like she likes sweet potatoes.”

“How would I know that? Why the hell would he pack them sweet potatoes if he knows she won’t eat them?”

Debbie’s gaze fell to the jar in Veronica’s hand, noticing the word  _Gemma_  scrawled across the side in permanent marker. “Um, Vee,” she said, nodding toward the jar.

Veronica furrowed her brow in confusion and lifted her hand to examine the jar, her face falling when she saw what Debbie was pointing out. “Of fucking course.” She cleaned up Amy’s chin and shirt before grabbing the jar of peas from the bag that sat between them, rolling her eyes when she saw  _Amy_  written on the label.

“Guess a mom should know what food her babies like, huh? That’s why Kev’s supermom,” she said, the bitterness in her tone clear. She sighed deeply as she unscrewed the lid on the peas. “He thinks I have postpartum depression.”

“What’s that?” Debbie sat Gemma up and put a toy keyboard in front of her. She turned her attention to Veronica as Gemma smashed the keys, producing bouncy music and an animated voice reciting the alphabet.

“Something he heard about from his mommy friends on the internet,” Veronica spat resentfully. She scooped out a spoonful of peas for Amy and offered it up. “He just doesn’t get it. I don’t have a goddamn medical condition. I just don’t like being a mom.” She looked down at the baby in her lap as she chomped away happily. “I probably shouldn’t say that right to their faces, huh?”

Debbie shrugged. “Being a parent’s not for everyone.”

“Yeah, well, Kev thinks it’s depression since I was all about babies until I squeezed these two out.”

“But you don’t think so?”

Veronica leaned her head back on the couch cushion and stared up at the ceiling. “I was excited because I wanted a family. But I didn’t know what that was like until they actually got here. It’s so different from what you’d expect.” She lifted her head to get back to feeding Amy, scraping the last bit of food out of the jar. “At least, from what I was expecting. Kev and I were a family already.”

Debbie stuck her leg out as a barrier when she noticed Gemma crawling toward the coffee table that they had pushed off to the side. “Yeah, but they’re here now.”

“You sound like Kev,” Veronica scoffed.

“Sorry. I just mean, I know what it’s like to have a shitty mom.” Debbie’s eyes widened at the realization of what she’d just said. Veronica merely raised her eyebrows, but Debbie hurried to backtrack. “Crap, Vee, that’s not what I mean! You’re a good mom! Way better than Monica.”

“I know what you meant. And I am a shitty mom. But I’ll try. Don’t have a choice. Maybe once they don’t cry twenty hours a day and shit in their pants it’ll be better.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. They still cry when they’re older. It’s even worse then, especially when you’re in public. Liam doesn’t throw many tantrums but one time we were grocery shopping and he threw himself on the floor because Fiona wouldn’t buy Lucky Charms. People don’t look at you funny when you have a crying baby, but they sure do when you have a screaming four year old.”

“Thanks, Debs,” Veronica replied sarcastically, faux pep in her voice. “We wouldn’t want me to get too optimistic about the future.”

“And potty training sucks. Liam still wets the bed sometimes. And even after they’re potty trained you still have to wipe their butts. Not much better than a dirty diaper.”

“Are you trying to convince me to leave my babies in a box on the side of the road? Because one more anecdote and we’re there.” As if on cue, Amy let out a few small whimpers and Veronica waved a toy in front of her face to stave off the tears.

“I’m just trying to prepare you. Don’t want you to have false hope.” Debbie pulled one side of her mouth into a smile, trying to lighten the heaviness that seemed to be hanging over the room. “But seriously, I really do think it’ll get easier. It just might take some time. Maybe once they can talk and develop bigger personalities. That might make you want to hang out with them more and stuff. Liam was pretty boring until he was about two. But it’s cool to watch them grow into little humans.”

“I think you’re lying to me, but I’ll take it. Thanks, Debs.” Veronica repositioned the squirming baby on her knee, turning her toward the distraction of the TV. She ran a hand over Amy’s short curls, staring down at her with emotion that Debbie couldn’t quite read. “Anyway, enough about me. Fill me in on the Gallagher gossip. Fi texted me, sounds like I missed some fun when I went to pick up the girls.”

“Ian’s losing it,” Debbie said plainly, the events of the morning still not completely registering, still feeling a bit surreal. “They’re at the clinic now but who knows if he’ll actually take the meds. Or if they’ll even work. You should’ve seen him, though. It was scary.”

“He almost hurt Debbie,” Liam chimed in.

“He didn’t mean to, Liam. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

The response seemed to satisfy Liam, or he was too enthralled by whatever was happening on the TV to continue the conversation. Gemma began to whine and Debbie swept her up into her arms, bouncing her lightly. She let her eyes fall on the screen, but paid no mind to what was on, instead thinking about what Mickey had said, about Ian almost hurting her and the possibility of someone not being so lucky next time.

She took the batteries out of the remote and handed it to the crying baby. Gemma calmed some, pushing a few buttons before slobbering on the end of the remote. Debbie reached an arm behind her to rub the foot that was pressing against the back of her neck. Liam was quiet now, probably not even thinking about Ian anymore, but she still felt the need to comfort him. Or maybe it was more to comfort herself.

“I never knew my mom before she was bipolar,” she said quietly.

Veronica looked over at her in surprise, her expression riddled with sympathy. Her gaze drifted to Liam and it was clear she understood what Debbie was thinking.

“This is the only Ian he’s going to know,” Debbie continued. “The one that scares him.”

Liam snapped out of it, able to sense the conversation was about him. He moved to lay flat on his stomach, wrapping his arms around Debbie’s neck. “Mickey said Ian was going to turn Fi into a carrot.”

Veronica widened her eyes at Debbie. “Are you fuckin’ serious?” She spoke without moving her lips as if Liam wouldn’t pick up on what she was saying.

“No, Liam, Mickey said Ian might turn Fiona into a  _character_ ,” Debbie sputtered, forming the lie as quickly as the words could come out of her mouth. “In his book. Because Ian’s writing a book.”

“Yeah, Ian’s the next Shakespeare,” Veronica droned, rolling her eyes. Amy continued to cry and Veronica turned her around again, laying her against her shoulder as she ran a hand over Liam’s leg with her free hand. “Mickey took him to the doctor so he can get better. You don’t have to be afraid of him, sweetheart. Okay?”

Liam nodded as he scurried off the couch, running over to where his toys were piled in the corner and sprawling out on the floor with Mater and Lightning McQueen, producing the sounds of car engines and tires squealing and the characters’ goofy voices.

Both of the twins’ soft cries quickly morphed into deafening wails, and Debbie tried every trick she knew to no avail. Veronica rifled through the diaper bag, pulling out a single pacifier. She dumped the rest of the contents out onto the floor, but came up empty.

“One goddamn pacifier in this whole bag. This is why no one should have twins.”

Debbie stood, placing Gemma in the pack n’ play next to Veronica. She put the lone pacifier in the infant’s mouth and watched as Gemma grabbed at it, moving it to the side to gnaw on the rubber. “I’ll go grab another one from your place.” She stopped, reexamining her word choice. “Uh, Kev’s place?”

“Might as well avoid the confusion all together and call it Skanklana’s place.”

Debbie winced in sympathy. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried out the door, hopping down the steps and taking long strides down the sidewalk. It felt good to be on a mission, to be helping Veronica with the kids. It made it easier to avoid the other things plaguing her mind.

The sounds of Amy and Gemma’s screams faded as she approached the Ball residence, barging in the front door and gasping when she collided with Kevin in the foyer.

“Debbie?” Kevin took a step back and put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her after nearly knocking her over. “Shit, sorry. You alright?”

“Oh, hey. I thought you’d be at the Alibi.”

“Just came home for my tools. Someone broke the toilet with their face.”

“How-”

“Don’t ask.”

Debbie’s eyes fell to the grocery bags in his hands, double-bagged to support the weight of the tools. “You really need a hammer to fix a toilet?”

Kevin stood tall, pulling his shoulders back and puffing his chest out at Debbie’s quizzical tone. “Never know what you might need. I’m skilled at fixing things in unconventional ways.” He wrapped the handles of the bags around his hand and relaxed his posture again. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a pacifier. We only have one and they’re both screaming. Maybe some teething rings too if you have any.”

“They’re cutting teeth again? Damn, they’ve been okay this week. I was hoping they’d be little angels so Vee would warm up to them.” Kevin went over to the couch and slid his hand between the cushions, coming up with a pacifier. He made his way into the kitchen and Debbie followed, taking up residence against the wall as he rinsed off the pacifier in the sink. “How’s she doin’?”

Debbie lifted a shoulder, not sure what answer Kevin wanted to hear, or what answer Veronica would want her to give. “She’s okay. Just doing her best.”

Kevin opened the freezer and grabbed two teething rings, handing them and the pacifier to Debbie. “Well that’s the least she could do.”

“Kev-”

“I know. That was mean. But she’s their mom.” To Debbie’s surprise, he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table. She lingered for a moment before deducing that she was meant to join him, having apparently volunteered herself for a therapy session.

She hesitantly pulled out her own chair and sat down next to him, and Kevin stared down at his hands as he continued. “I’m here taking care of them all the time and she’s just… what if they don’t even know her? Stranger anxiety happens around this age. Pretty soon they’re not going to want to go to her at all. The women in the Mommy and Me forums said every second she loses out on is huge at this age. I mean, she didn’t even do the skin-to-skin contact when they were first born. You’re supposed to put their tiny naked bodies against your chest as soon as they come out. Just stuff like that, she doesn’t want to do any of it. She doesn’t care that it’s good for them.”

“It’s hard for her,” Debbie offered. She tread lightly, not wanting to reveal everything Veronica had confided in her, but her place as mediator didn’t allow for much secrecy. “It’s not like she  _wants_  to be like this. Her life would be a lot easier if she felt the same way you do. She just doesn’t. But she’s trying.”

Kevin looked longingly at the table, clearly thinking about the hole in his life. “I miss her.”

“Then you have to try too,” Debbie encouraged, feeling a responsibility to both of them.

“I am!” he exclaimed defensively. “I do everything for them.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You’re a great dad, Kev. The best. I’m talking about Vee. You need to try to understand how she feels. Try to help her out. Just don’t push them on her, ya know? Don’t push her to do stuff she’s not comfortable with. Maybe even spend some time together  _without _the girls.”__

Kevin ran a hand over his head, fingers curling like he had forgotten his long locks were no longer there. The frown that took over his face pulled at his tired eyes, making him appear more discouraged than when Debbie had begun. “But that’s our family now. What am I gonna do if she doesn’t want that?”

Debbie looked away, not having an answer for him. “I should go,” she said, standing awkwardly as she saw Kevin take in her avoidance of the question. “She’s gonna be pissed if I don’t come to the rescue soon.”

“Thanks for helping her out. Make sure she’s okay for me.”

Debbie nodded, patting Kevin’s shoulder and offering him a considerate smile, which paled in comparison to his disheartened air.

*

“No way, I’m not a snitch.”

Carl was seated at a table in a room that felt more like a closet than anything. He pushed his chair back away from the table a few inches; the cement walls seemed to be pressing in on him, the tightness of it all making him want to crawl out of his skin. The single bright light hanging from the ceiling was the only thing that reminded him of the interrogation rooms he’d seen on TV; the rest of it felt too real, not at all glamorous as if it were being seen through a screen.

Across from him, Fiona sat next to the public defender he’d been appointed, both of them looking pained as they mulled over Carl’s situation.

The lawyer cleared his throat, making an effort not to lose his patience. “Well, with all due respect Carl, I’m going to have to ask you to reconsider. You were caught red-handed, we don’t have many options here.”

“Well with all due respect,  _Sam_ , no fucking way.”

“Carl, watch your mouth,” Fiona scolded severely. “And it’s Mr. Rathburn to you.”

“Rayburn.”

Fiona disregarded the man’s correction and cut to the chase. “Look, if he rats he’ll get put on a hitlist. You plan on relocatin’ us, puttin’ us in witness protection?”

Rayburn threw her a pointed look. “He didn’t witness the mafia capping someone. It’s a small-time drug operation.” He turned to Carl while still addressing Fiona, and Carl looked away in disinterest. “And if he tells us who it is, the bad guys get put away and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone coming after him.”

“Please, you’re not that dumb,” Fiona scoffed, pushing back. “It’s not just him he’d have to be afraid of; the whole neighborhood would know he snitched. There’d be a ton of people gunnin’ for him.”

Carl pulled his lower lip into his mouth, biting it softly as he listened to Fiona challenge his public defender. He hadn’t considered how far word would spread, how many people’s trust he would lose, how many people would hate him on principle. Once a rat, always a rat, and no one would believe any differently.

“It would be in judges chambers behind closed doors. No one would know it was Carl who gave him up.”

“They’d know,” she droned, enunciating the words and hitting each letter sharply. “We’re not puttin’ his safety at risk.”

“Or my rep,” Carl added. He ignored Fiona’s irritated huff and narrowed his eyes at Rayburn, slouching in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Rayburn clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring in frustration. “Well, his safety will be at risk in juvie too. Maybe even more so.”

Carl shrugged, his cool response coming automatically. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“He’s not givin’ anybody up. What are our other options?”

Rayburn’s eyes bore into Carl in a last-ditch effort to elicit a different answer. Carl leaned forward, pressing his fingertips into the cold tabletop. “I’m. Not. A. Snitch.”

“Okay, in that case, I advise you to plead guilty and say a prayer that they don’t hit you with the maximum sentence.”

“What if he shows remorse?” Fiona asked, drawing Rayburn’s attention back to her. She folded her hands together and softened her approach, a pleading look replacing her icy glare. “Wouldn’t the judge go easier on him?”

Carl furrowed his brow, already sure he wouldn’t like where this was headed. “What’s remorse?”

“It means you say you’re sorry.”

“Fuck that. I’m not sorry, and I’d do it again.”

“Do you even realize what’s goin’ on here? Do you get how serious this is?” Fiona implored desperately. “You’re not just at risk of being grounded. You could go to juvie for a year.”

“So I should lie?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t lying in court illegal?”

“Carl, enough. You need to tell the judge whatever she wants to hear.”

Carl held his tongue and Fiona turned to Rayburn again, her tolerance of both of them wearing thin. “Will he have have a chance at gettin’ no time if he shows genuine remorse?”

Rayburn threw his hands out in exasperation. “Maybe,” he said, sounding defeated and less than convinced. Carl sank lower in his chair, Rayburn’s doubtfulness making him feel queasy.

“It’s his first offense.”

“His first  _criminal_  offense. The judge will have access to all his school records, which do not paint the most glorious picture.”

Carl smirked. “Matter of opinion.”

“You think this makes you something?” Rayburn tapped his finger on the file before him. “Do you know how many kids just like you come into a situation just like this with a record just like yours? Thinking they’re tough because they pushed some people around and committed a crime that they’re proud of? I’ve seen it too many times to count, and I’m sure Judge Gaither has seen it a thousand more times than that. You are barely a blip on her radar. So if you do the same thing they did, let your pride win out, she won’t think twice about throwing you in. And you know what? Once those kids just like you got to juvie, they realized they weren’t quite as big and bad as they thought.”

Carl tore his eyes away from Rayburn, looking to Fiona instead. She was scared, Carl could tell, in the subtle way her lips turned down in a thin line and the way her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest.

He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, Fiona’s fear resonating with him and bringing him no consolation. “So you’re saying I either rat and get a beatdown out here, tell the truth and get a beatdown in there, or act like a pussy in front of the judge and see what happens?”

Rayburn sighed deeply. He sat back, smoothing one hand over his mustache and clicking his pen against the table with the other. “Look, if you play the remorse card and do it well, and I mean really,  _really_  well, there is a chance you could get off with community service and probation. Say you made a mistake and you were taken advantage of. Play dumb, play pitiful, do whatever you need to do. Short of giving the judge a name, that’s your best shot. I advise you to take it.”

*

Mickey watched as the doctor scribbled on her clipboard, flipping back and forth between pages, checking boxes and circling words. The light scratching of the pen against the thin paper produced the only sound in the room, occasionally joined by the creak of the wheels on her stool rolling over the floor.

Mickey tried to catch the words she was jotting down, huffing loudly when he couldn't make them out. He glanced over to Ian instead, and Ian attempted a small, nervous smile when their eyes met.

"Well, I'm glad you came in, Ian," Dr. Kendrick said, finishing up her notes. "I know it can be very frustrating and overwhelming at first, but it's important that we get you back on some meds. That's the only way this will get any easier." She filled out a couple pages of her prescription pad and tore them off, extending them to Ian. “We’ll start you on lithium. If that’s not optimal, we can try divalproex or tegretol."

"Okay,” Mickey said, snatching the papers from her fingers. “How often does he take them?"

“Twice a day. We're also going to try olanzapine for the paranoia."

Ian nodded, but Mickey wasn’t satisfied. “Yeah, you keep sayin' that.  _Try_. You just shootin’ in the dark here?”

“There’s no one size fits all when it comes to medication. It requires a little experimentation.” Dr. Kendrick set her pen down and rotated her stool to face them, giving them her full attention. “How much experimentation varies from person to person.”

“He’s not a fucking lab rat. It’s 2015, you tellin’ me modern medicine doesn’t have anything for this beyond fuckin’ experimentation? Jesus, maybe we should get a second opinion.”

“Hey,” Ian said, the word barely audible as he placed a hand on Mickey’s knee. Mickey looked over at him and let out a frustrated breath, trying to relax when he caught sight of Ian’s placating expression.

“I am your second opinion, and I’m sure Dr. Beard told Ian the same thing.” She folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles, her white tennis shoes squeaking when they scuffed across the floor. “We know all these meds work in one case or another, but that doesn’t mean they’ll work for everyone, and there’s no manual to say what dosage everyone requires. Trial and error, that’s just the way it works.”

Mickey bit his lip, knowing his arguments were pointless. He raised his eyebrows in lieu of nodding, encouraging her to continue.

“I’d like to see you back here in a couple weeks so we can discuss how you’ve been tolerating your meds, and then we can talk about any adjustments or changes that might need to be made. We’ll make you an appointment before you leave.”

Ian nodded again, taking the slips out of Mickey’s begrudging hands and reading them over. “So how long do I need to take these for?”

“We’ll meet every couple weeks for awhile to see how you’re doing, and then once it seems that we’ve found the right fit we’ll go from there.”

“But how long will I need to be on meds?” Ian asked, looking up at Dr. Kendrick. “What, a year? Two years? Five?”

“Indefinitely. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Can you just give him a straight answer?” Mickey barked, growing agitated by the doctor’s ambiguity.

Dr. Kendrick sighed. “There is some evidence that in time the need for aggressive treatment diminishes. But it’s hard to say how far down the road that could be.”

“Ballpark,” Ian implored, refusing to break eye contact.

She stared back at him for a moment before answering reluctantly. “Thirty, forty years.”

Mickey felt his heart jump into his throat. He watched as Ian’s face fell, his mouth slightly agape as he sat frozen, staring past Dr. Kendrick. Mickey exhaled slowly and Ian sat back, still appearing to be in shock.

“Okay, but once he starts takin’ the meds, he’ll feel normal, right?” Mickey questioned, his tone insistent that what he was saying was true.

“It can be tricky to get them right and he’ll need time to adjust each time we make a change.”

Mickey shook his head and furrowed his brow in annoyance. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But after that. Once we find the right combination or whatever. He’ll have to take his meds every day but if he does he’ll be fine.”

His search for confirmation was not fulfilled by Dr. Kendrick. She looked at him sympathetically, the expression making Mickey squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

“The meds help. But it can take awhile to find out  _which_  meds help, and even once we do, things can change.” She turned to address Ian as he stared past both of them, his eyes unfocused, and if Mickey didn’t know any better he’d say Ian hadn’t been listening at all. “So no, the meds don’t mean that you’ll never show or feel another symptom of the disorder. But I don’t want that to discourage you. They do help. Especially if we have patience in getting the regimen right.”

“They help,” Ian scoffed, an unamused smile pulling at his lips. “Meaning they make me feel nothing. And then as soon as I start feeling something again, you’re going to switch me to something else. And that’s my life now. Right?”

“This  _is_  a lifelong illness,” the doctor conceded. “But Ian, people do go on to have perfectly normal lives while living with bipolar disorder."

Mickey placed his hand over Ian’s and gave it a comforting squeeze, neither of them able to form any more words.

*

Debbie pounded her fists into the bag, her face scrunched up in concentration. She used her forearm to quickly push back a few wisps of hair that had become plastered to her forehead before increasing the pace of her blows, her face growing red from the exertion.

She was mid-jab when she felt a hand cup her shoulder, causing her to spin around and nearly knock Derek square in the jaw.

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back out of her reach.

“Hey.” Debbie couldn’t help but return the smile, his expression giving her butterflies.

“You okay? I heard the slap of those gloves and thought maybe Rocky was over here.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Debbie replied sheepishly. Her smile faded as she thought back to her morning, realizing how desperately she wanted to get it all off her chest. She turned back to the bag, releasing her anger through her fists as she told him the truth. “That’s a lie. I suck. Genetics suck. Everything sucks.”

“Genetics?”

“My brother’s not doing good, thanks to my psycho mom passing on her fucked up genes.”

“Ian? What happened?”

“Tried to kill me with a baseball bat this morning.”

Derek held up his hands to stop her swings, stepping between her and her target. “Wait, he  _what_?”

Debbie dropped her hands and exhaled, fighting to keep still as she felt the adrenaline coursing through her body. “He flushed all his meds the other day. This morning he thought someone was coming to kidnap him or something so he ran around the house with a baseball bat.”

“Shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said with nonchalance as she dropped her gaze back down to the bag. “It was kinda scary but not the worst thing that’s ever happened in my house.”

“How about Ian? Is he gonna be okay?”

She shrugged. “His boyfriend-”

“Mickey, right?”

Debbie looked up at him in surprise, feeling a twinge of happiness at his attentiveness. “Yeah. Mickey’s taking him to the clinic today to get more meds, but...” she trailed off, not wanting to vocalize her pessimism.

“At least he’s got you guys to look out for him.”

“Maybe,” she said quietly, the word laced with doubt. She pulled off one of the gloves and tucked it under her arm as she wiped a sweaty palm on her shorts.

“What, you think his boyfriend’s going to break up with him or something?”

Debbie furrowed her brow and shook her head, Mickey’s status being the furthest thing from her mind. “No, I think he might end up like my mom.”

“Your mom? You never talked about her before. Guess I thought she was dead.”

“Not dead, just gone.” She slipped the glove back onto her hand and nodded for Derek to hold the bag still as she went at it again. “She’s bipolar too and she’s never been around much. She didn’t take her meds either. Tried a few times but never stuck with it. She hated them. And when she was off her meds, she couldn’t really take care of us. Or didn’t want to, or something.” Debbie could feel the familiar sting behind her eyes that surfaced every time she thought of her mother. She tightened her abs and channeled the anger, forgetting any form Derek had taught her as she relentlessly pummeled the bag. “Whatever. So she left and went who knows where.”

“So you’re afraid Ian’s going to leave?”

“I was always mad at her for leaving,” she continued between sharp breaths, not quite acknowledging his question. “And for acting crazy. And sometimes I hated her for not being a normal mom. But sometimes I would think about her. Where she was or what she was doing. If she was alone or cold or sad. If she was maybe thinking about us too.”

Derek dug his shoulder into the bag, planting his feet to hold it steady against the force of Debbie’s blows. “Easy there, killer.”

Debbie stopped suddenly, her arms tingling as she let the gloves weigh her down. She met Derek’s gaze and took a deep breath, an honest frown taking over her face. “I don’t want that to happen to Ian. I don’t want to have to wonder about that stuff with him.”

“Maybe it won’t,” he replied, offering her a small reassuring smile. “Because you know, my dad has hemorrhoids and I got them too, only mine are way less bad. Maybe it’ll be the same thing for your brother.”

Debbie’s heart fluttered at his attempt to comfort her. She took both of her gloves off again, dropping them to the ground and wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

“I really like you,” she blurted out, pushing all of her hardships to the back of her mind.

Derek grinned. “I really like you too.”

“As a friend, or…”

“Yeah, as a friend,” he confirmed, and Debbie’s heart sunk. She dropped her chin to her chest and tried not to give herself away. “And maybe as more than a friend.”

Debbie’s face lit up, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you…” He tried to articulate something with his hands, looking foolish, but it only made Debbie fall harder. He chuckled at the awkwardness and persevered, finally getting out the words Debbie had been waiting for. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Yes!” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest and bounced on her toes, nearly squealing with excitement before shifting back onto the balls of her feet and running a hand over her hair, attempting to look poised. “That would be really cool.”

Derek smiled and held out his hand and Debbie took it in her own. She closed her eyes when she saw him lean in and felt his lips press softly against hers. She looked at him expectantly when he pulled away, surprised at the brevity of the kiss.

“So maybe we should go out on a date or something,” he said, trailing a finger over her wrist. “It doesn’t count if it’s at the gym.”

“A date? Yeah, great! Um, when?”

“How about today? You can hang out here 'til my shift ends and then we can catch a movie or something and grab dinner. I’ll pay and everything.”

Debbie smiled, her eyes widening at his forwardness. “You really want to go out today?”

Derek shrugged. “I’ve been waiting forever to ask you out. I don’t want to wait longer to make it official.”

Debbie perked up, frozen by his implications. “Make it official?”

“Yeah, ya know. By going on our first real date. As a couple.”

“Oh. Right, yeah. Of course.” Debbie nodded along, slightly disappointed that she had misinterpreted his words. “Well, if it’s a real date then I should shower and change and stuff. How about I meet you back here at the end of your shift?”

“Sure. I’m done at 7.”

“Perfect!” Debbie looked down at her forgotten gloves on the floor, once again becoming aware of the world around her. “Help me out for a few more minutes here?”

Derek nodded and resumed his position behind the bag as Debbie pulled her gloves on and got back to work, executing everything Derek had taught her perfectly, doing her best to impress him.

Derek raised his eyebrows as he watched her. “Damn, my girlfriend is a beast,” he declared proudly.

Debbie pursed her lips as her eyes remained fixed on the bag in front of her, trying unsuccessfully to hide her elation.

*

Fiona kicked off her heels the minute she stepped through the front door, softening her steps when she spotted Amy and Gemma asleep in the pack n’ play. She crept into the kitchen, finding Veronica seated at the table playing a game of Go Fish with Liam.

“Hey,” she said as Fiona entered the room. “How’d the stuff with Carl go?”

“I don’t know, the lawyer doesn’t seem all that optimistic about it, especially considerin’ Carl’s attitude, but we’ll see.” She pulled her purse over her head and took off her earrings, throwing it all on the counter. “They set the date for his sentencing hearing, but the judge decided he gets to stay in juvie until then.”

“Maybe it’ll scare him into acting like a choir boy at his hearing.”

Fiona snorted skeptically. “Yeah, well, with my luck he’ll love it there and never want to leave.”

She made her way to the overflowing clothes basket that sat in the corner, searching through the dirty clothes for something passable.

“Clean clothes in the dryer, mostly yours,” Veronica informed her while scrutinizing her cards. “Got any eights?”

Liam shook his head and Fiona grinned, pulling a t-shirt and pair of shorts out of the dryer. She stepped out of her skirt and unbuttoned enough buttons to pull her shirt over her head, quickly slipping into the comfy clothes, still warm and smelling like fabric softener.

“I love you, Vee.” She walked up behind her, wrapping her arms around her neck and nuzzling against her cheek. “Can I keep you?”

Veronica quirked an eyebrow. “Careful what you wish for.”

Fiona squeezed her tightly before heading over to the fridge, taking out the pot of sauce and the bag of spaghetti noodles, smiling as she listened to Veronica and Liam’s rousing game.

“Ian here?” she asked, placing the pot on the stove and lighting the burner.

“Nope, hasn’t been home all day.”

“Really? I called an hour ago and no answer. Thought they’d be back by now. What the hell’s taking them so long?” She pulled out her phone to check in, lingering over Ian’s name before deciding on Mickey’s instead.

_Where are you guys? Everything go good at the clinic?_

The back door swung open just as she sent the text, but it was Debbie who came barging through it.

“Hey, have a good workout?”

“The best,” Debbie said, beaming.

Fiona smiled, squinting at her suspiciously. “Why do I get the feeling it wasn’t the workout that has you all smiley?”

Debbie shrugged nonchalantly, but the gleeful expression never left her face. “I’m going on a date.”

“With Derek? Debs! That’s great!” Fiona exclaimed, relieved that things were finally going Debbie’s way.

“It’s not really a big deal, we’ll be going on lots of dates since he’s my boyfriend now.” Fiona looked impressed and Debbie glanced away nervously, making her way slowly over to the stairs and stopping on the second step. “By the way, I was thinking... I’m fourteen now, and I finally found a really nice guy my age, so we should probably make a trip to Planned Parenthood.”

Fiona paused, caught off guard by the suggestion. “You sure about this? I know you really like him but-”

Debbie cut her off. “Please don’t lecture me. I’m happy, I don’t want you to ruin this for me. And I know what I’m doing. So will you take me?”

“Yes, we’ll go,” Fiona said reluctantly, feeling compelled to give in to Debbie’s plea, but uncertain if it was the right move. “Promise me you won’t do anything before then.”

“Promise,” Debbie agreed, already sprinting up the stairs.

“Alright, Liam,” Veronica sighed, throwing her cards onto the heap between them. “Losing six times in a row is enough for me. Why don’t you go show Debbie the picture you drew?”

“Oh yeah!” Liam grabbed the piece of paper off the counter and ran after Debbie up the stairs.

Fiona pulled a spoon out of the drawer and stuck it in the pot, stirring the sauce as it heated. “Ya know, if you let him win he won’t learn how to lose.”

“Let him win? Yeah right. I think he cheats, I just don’t know how.” She gathered up the cards from the table, organizing them to fit into the box. “So, the pill already?”

Fiona shrugged a shoulder, her gaze floating over to the stairs. “Can’t say too much, I guess. I was doin’ it at her age.”

“Me too.” Veronica grabbed her mug off the table and sat back, staring into space as she kicked her feet up onto the chair next to her and reminisced. “Shit, maybe a couple years before that.”

“And she could do a lot worse than the guy she’s been seein’. He sounds sweet.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Aren’t they all?”

“How did things go with the girls today?” Fiona wondered, pawing through the stack of bills on the counter.

Vee shrugged, grimacing as she took a drink of her cold coffee. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“I can’t think of any other words to describe it. It was just fine. Not great, not terrible. Not eye-opening or life-changing. It was fine.”

“Fine’s okay,” Fiona said, her voice upbeat, but Veronica looked unconvinced.

Fiona heard the sound of the front door open, paying little attention to it until Veronica sprung to her feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she shouted, and Fiona looked over to see Svetlana standing in the middle of the living room, Yevgeny strapped to her chest.

“I came to pick up babies. Stroller is outside.”

Veronica’s eyes widened as she stepped into the living room and folded her arms in front of her. “You’re here to pick up  _my_  babies? Hell no. Tell Kev to bring his ass here and get them himself or they’re staying.”

“I take them for walk around the block to get sunshine and fresh air, then bring them home.”

“Home? Whose home?” Veronica’s voice stayed just under a scream, conscious of the babies still fast asleep a few feet away, but she nonetheless managed to express enough rage to keep Fiona on her toes, ready to intervene if needed. “You better not be talkin’ about my house, that ain’t your home.”

“Is not your home either,” Svetlana remarked dismissively. “You live here.”

“It’s temporary. And you better march back out that door before I rip that smug look right off your face.”

Svetlana smirked, looking Veronica up and down snidely before taking her time sauntering out the door.

“So,” Fiona said, filling the stunned silence. “Svetlana’s still living with Kev.”

Veronica turned to her, her jaw hanging open in disbelief. “I swear to God, Fi, I’m gonna go fucking ballistic on someone.” She walked back into the kitchen and sat down on a stool, propping her elbows up on the counter and holding her head in her hands.

“Just as long as I’m not around to witness. I’ve got enough shit going on with Chicago’s finest.” Fiona laughed, plating up some spaghetti and setting it in front of Veronica. “Am I gonna have two extra house guests tonight?”

“Fuck no. I’m sure Kev will be here soon to get them. Can’t last one goddamn night without them.” She ran her fingers along the hem of her shirt, looking pensively into the living room. “What do you think he does over there without me?”

Fiona thought about it for a moment, finding it difficult to imagine a Kev without a Vee. “Drinks, shits, and watches TV?”

“And plays with his new toy,” Veronica added.

“Vee, you know Kev would never-”

“I know,” she conceded, cutting into Fiona’s concerned reassurance. “At least, I think I know. But what the hell’s she even doing there then? Mandy’s the only one left in the Milkovich brothel, why doesn’t she just move back there?”

Fiona struggled to come up with a good answer. She opened her mouth to admit she didn’t know but was cut off by one of the twins beginning to fuss as she woke from her nap, the other following suit soon after.

“They can probably sense that their new mommy just left,” Veronica said resentfully, dragging herself into the living room to tend to the twins.

Fiona’s phone vibrated on the counter, a new text alert popping up on her screen. She picked up the phone and unlocked it, reading the brief message from Mickey.

_We’re good_

Fiona shook her head, sticking the phone in the back pocket of her shorts. “A man of many words.”

*

Mickey had a cigarette in his hand before they even stepped outside the clinic. He placed it between his lips as he followed Ian out the door, bringing the lighter up to his face as soon as they hit the fresh air, the overcast sky making for a cool fall day.

Ian stood idly outside the building, kicking at the pavement as he waited for Mickey to take a pull from the cigarette and pass it to him.

“You ready?” Mickey asked, not sure why they weren’t moving.

Ian took a drag from the cigarette, and then another, blowing the smoke out in a slow, steady stream and staring off into the distance while Mickey waited behind him.

“For what?” Ian finally responded, flicking the cigarette and making no move to hand it back to Mickey.

“To go home.”

“Whose home?”

“Yours, if you want.” Mickey shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Ian paused, taking one more look at the uninspiring scenery in front of him before turning to Mickey. “You still coming with me?”

“The hell are you talking about?" Mickey snapped, confused and defensive.

"Forty years, Mick. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“So what?”

“So what?” Ian echoed. “That doesn’t freak you out?”

“'Course it freaks me out. That doesn’t mean I’m walkin’ away.”

Ian smiled and shook his head, tossing the half-smoked cigarette to the ground. “Just get out while you still can, man.”

Mickey stared at him, dumbfounded by the sudden outburst. “Knock it off. You seriously still scared I'm gonna leave?”

"Yeah. I’m scared that you’re gonna leave.” Ian rubbed his knuckles over his red-rimmed eyes, forcing the words out with a pained expression. “And I'm scared that you won't, and that you'll be miserable for the rest of your life."

“Hey, look at me,” Mickey demanded gently, grabbing Ian’s wrist. “I’m here, alright? Because I fuckin' want to be. So you can cut the shit. I’m not leavin’ you, okay? You don’t have to worry about that.”

Ian gave a bleak nod and Mickey could see all the thoughts swirling around in his head that would never leave his lips. He exhaled sharply as he looked down at Ian’s wrist in his hand, rubbing his thumb over a spatter of freckles before letting go. He took the lead in wandering down the street and Ian followed, leaving the clinic behind them.

“You wanna go get somethin’ to eat?” he asked over his shoulder. “I’m starvin’ and there ain’t jack shit at your place.”

“Don’t do that,” Ian said as he lagged behind, his fingers in his pockets.

Mickey stopped to let Ian catch up, sensing the bite in his tone. “Do what?”

“Pretend it’s for your benefit when it’s for mine.”

He furrowed his brow at Ian’s ridiculous claim. “It’s not for yours. I’m fuckin’ hungry and your family scarfed down all the eggs that I made this morning before I could get a goddamn bite,” he said harshly, overcompensating for his transparency. “So can we go? Please? I’m buyin’.”

He took a few steps forward but was forced to stop once more when Ian spoke up behind him.

“Just like you’re buying everything else for me, right? My meds, my food, hey I need a new coat before winter, you mind picking up the tab?”

“Jesus Christ, are you seriously tryin’ to pick a fight?” Mickey retraced his steps, stopping in front of Ian and narrowing his eyes in exasperation. “Why you got a problem with me payin’ for stuff?”

Ian’s mouth was pulled into a frown, his eyes wide and pleading. “Because you shouldn’t have to. I should be able to pay for shit on my own.” His voice was softer, lacking the venom it had before. He looked younger somehow, his desperate emotions making him appear fragile.

“What’s wrong with us lookin’ out for each other?”

Ian chuckled, taking one hand out of his pocket to run his fingers through his hair as he looked around, his eyes skimming over everything but Mickey. “It’s kind of a one way street, Mick.”

“No it’s not, and you know it. We take care of each other.” He dragged his fingers across the small of Ian’s back before starting down the sidewalk again, Ian matching his pace. “So I’m gonna buy you a fuckin’ BLT and you’re gonna eat it.”

They walked in silence for a moment, Mickey staying close enough to brush shoulders with Ian with each step. He watched Ian subtly out of his peripherals, quirking a brow when he saw a smirk emerge on his face.

“What?”

“Did Debbie and Liam really eat everything before you had a chance or did you let them eat it all?” he asked accusingly.

Mickey rolled his eyes, stopping in front of the first diner he saw and swinging the door open to let Ian walk in first. “Shut up.”

Ian led the way to a booth in the back corner and Mickey slid into the bench opposite him. He stretched his arms out in front of him, feeling the satisfying pull of the stiff muscles and eliciting a few small popping noises from his elbows.

Ian peered out the large window to his right, appearing absorbed by the passersby until he took a breath and turned to Mickey. “Hey, listen, about the movie, I get why you were mad. I didn’t mean to- I just didn’t think about it.”

Mickey shook his head as he picked up a folded piece of cardstock from the far end of the table. “Not mad.”

“But you were, and I just-”

“Ian, it’s fine,” he insisted, giving him a pointed look. He sat the dessert menu in front of Ian and nodded for him to check it out. “They got chocolate cheesecake here, you want some?”

Ian ignored the menu, returning it to its place next to the ketchup bottle. “Mickey, we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. And taking Yev-”

“Look, we don’t gotta talk about this,” Mickey interrupted, swiping his thumb over his lower lip. “Any of this shit. Everything’s okay, the baby’s back, you got tested, Debbie’s head’s still attached to her body.” Ian winced as Mickey rattled off the list, and Mickey nudged his leg under the table in reassurance. “And we got your meds. So let’s just fuckin’ chill out for two seconds. We can talk about all that shit when you’re better.”

The waitress set two glasses of water in front of them and tossed a couple straws onto the table. “Do you boys need some menus?”

“No, I’ll just have a burger and fries,” Mickey answered, poking the straw through its wrapper and sticking it in his drink.

“I’m really not hungry,” Ian said, and Mickey’s eyes shot up to see the sad smile he threw at the waitress. “Thanks.”

Mickey pushed his water to the side and pressed his forearms into the table. “You haven’t eaten in like twenty-four hours,” he scolded as the waitress walked away.

“Sorry that I lost my appetite after being given a life sentence,” Ian retorted, his expression blank. “I know you’re not hungry either.”

Mickey exhaled loudly as he sat back, softening in response to Ian’s despair. “I know what she said. Forty years or whatever. But we just gotta hang on a couple weeks, couple months tops while we get your meds figured out. Then everything’ll start falling together.”

“Or falling apart.”

Mickey looked at him sharply, frustrated by his insistent pessimism. “You can have my fries,” he said, ending the conversation, and Ian gazed out the window without argument.

*

“Hey, little bro. How you doing in there?”

Carl’s body went lax at the sound of his brother’s voice. Fiona had only left a few hours ago, but with all that had happened since, it felt like a lifetime.

“I’m okay,” he said, cradling the phone with both hands.

“Sorry I couldn’t be there. With classes and RA duty I just couldn’t swing it.”

”It’s cool.” Carl looked over at the guard who was staring straight at the wall and wondered if he got a kick out of listening to people’s conversations. Disconcerted by the lack of privacy, he turned his back to the guard and pressed the phone closer to his face. “Fiona fill you in?”

“She gave me the gist,” Lip confirmed. “They’re sayin’ if you don’t snitch you might do time?”

“Yeah. Guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Maybe I’d actually learn somethin’ in juvie.” He said it with conviction, sure that he had at least fooled Lip for the moment, but he came up short in convincing himself.

“Yeah, some valuable professional skills like how not to get killed in a knife fight or how to roll a really good cigarette. Stuff you can use to pad your resume.”

Carl shrugged at Lip’s blithe disregard. “More than I learn in school.”

“Come on, man. You know you don’t want to get stuck in juvie. I don’t think it’s as fun as the pretty picture in your head. It’s not gonna be you and some pals playing basketball and beating the other kids up for their lunch money. It’s real, ya know? Full of douchebags way bigger than you who will hate you for no reason, and guards with a power complex who think they’re hot shit because they get to boss around a bunch of twelve year olds.”

Carl pulled at the starchy uniform that was scratching against his skin, rattled by Lip’s warning.

“And the food probably tastes like shit,” he added with a smirk in his voice, sensing Carl’s unease.

“I can’t snitch.”

“I know,” Lip agreed. “Just keep your chin up, alright? And keep your nose clean; don’t give them any reason to stick you in there more permanently.”

“Can’t promise that.”

Lip chuckled. “Alright, bluff all you want to maintain your street cred but I know you don’t seriously want to end up in there.”

Carl smiled, relieved that Lip could see right through him. Feeling less pressure to put on an act, he threw another look at the guard before lowering his voice and cupping his hand around the mouthpiece. “You think it was wrong? What I did?”

He heard Lip sigh and could imagine him laying down, sinking into his bed in his dorm and rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he formulated his response. “Look, we’re all just tryin’ to survive. I know. I get the temptation of being able to help out in a big way. But you have to look at the bigger picture. You knew there was a chance of getting caught. Gotta ask yourself right from the start if the benefits outweigh the risks.”

Carl raised a brow at the overzealous answer. “Doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Sure it does. I said, ‘I don’t know, it’s complicated’ but disguised it in a bunch of meaningful shit.”

Carl heard the flick of a lighter and Lip’s shaky exhale soon after, and the realization of his brother’s own troubles washed over him.

“I know you feel bad but it’s okay that you didn’t come,” Carl told him, sensing the guilt sitting heavily in Lip’s chest. “I know school’s important. Not for me, obviously, but for you.”

“I know,” Lip said, not bothering to laugh at Carl’s attempt at humor. “It’s not okay, but I know.”

“This probably won’t be my first run in with the law. You need a fancy degree so you can make enough to bail me out next time. Benefits of school outweigh the risks.” Carl smirked at his cleverness, using Lip’s own words against him.

“Under normal circumstances. But when most people weigh the pros and cons of college I don’t think they have to worry about their little brother breaking the law and being in lock up while they’re studying for thermo.”

“Nothin’ you could’ve done about it anyway. I’m my own man.”

He heard Lip laugh just as the guard spoke up. “One minute, Gallagher.”

Carl nodded. “Guess I gotta go.”

“Alright, man. Have fun in there.”

“Lip?” he said, wanting to use up every last second he was allowed. His breathing turned shaky at the thought of having little to no contact with his family.

“Yeah?”

“You think it’s gonna be that bad?” Carl asked, unable to resist despite knowing how it made him sound. He pressed himself against the wall, trying not to think about the guard listening to his every word.

“Probably only half as bad as I’m making it sound,” Lip admitted, sounding cheerful to raise Carl’s spirits. “Gotta try and scare you straight, right?”

Carl nodded and attempted to smile, sniffing back the tears that he refused to let fall. He couldn’t tell if Lip was being genuine or if he was merely trying to take away some of the fear that he had planted in him, but Carl accepted the answer without pushing for the truth.

“You’ll be okay,” Lip assured him. “Just be good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Carl said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks.”

“Love you.”

Carl put the phone back on the receiver and wiped away a tear that had escaped his eye.

“You can blow your nose later. Let’s go, Gallagher.”

Carl closed his eyes, using all of his willpower to keep his mouth shut. He took a breath before turning and following the guard out of the room.

*

Fiona was seated at the table with a tablet of paper and a calculator, opening the mail that had accumulated in various corners of the house and sorting out the bills from the junk. She looked up when she heard the back door open, Ian and Mickey walking through.

“Hey. About time you two got back. How’d it go?”

Ian forced a smile and waved the white paper bag in his hand, the pills inside rattling in their bottles.

Fiona approached him, placing her hands on either side of his face. “Hey, I’m proud of you.”

“Gonna give it a shot, at least.” He let her wrap him up in a quick hug before pulling away and turning toward the stairs. “I’m tired, gonna go to bed.”

“Okay,” Mickey said, setting down the groceries he was holding and taking the bag of meds from Ian. “I’ll be up in a few.”

“Oh, wait. Liam wanted me to give you this.” Fiona grabbed a hand drawn picture off the counter and gave it to Ian. “Said he wants to be a superhero in your book. Whatever that means.”

Ian accepted the scrap of paper, looking down at the Liam-shaped figure wearing a purple cape. He shrugged, mumbling goodnight before heading up the stairs.

Fiona collected the grocery bags from the floor and sat them on the counter, rummaging through the contents: pasta, fruit, Pop-Tarts, cereal, bread, peanut butter, the whole nine yards.

“Is this what took you so long? This is quite the spread.”

“Yeah, we stopped at my place too to grab more of our clothes. Hung out with Mandy for a little bit but Ian was gettin’ tired.” He took the bookbag off his back and tossed it onto the stairs before joining Fiona in sorting through the groceries.

“Everything really go okay at the clinic?”

Mickey shrugged, grabbing the milk and butter and putting them in the fridge. “Said he’d take the meds. Wasn’t happy about it but I wasn’t expectin’ him to be.”

“Thanks for takin’ him,” Fiona said, watching him closely as she segued into her next question. "Where were ya when he got out of the hospital? Thought you might've been gone for good.”

"Just had a job I had to take care of."

"While you decided if you could do this?” She put two boxes of Pop-Tarts away and crumpled up the empty bag in her hands, catching Mickey gnawing nervously on his lip. “I saw you at the hospital and then no word for a couple days. I might not be great at math but I know one plus one is two."

"I never planned on bailing on him,” he said defensively, but relented as he brought a hand up to knead the back of his neck. “I just- it was a lot to fuckin’ swallow, Jesus."

Fiona lifted her hands, signaling that she cast no judgement. "Hey, believe me, I know."

“Yeah well, I'm here now.” He said it like a promise, his voice more gentle than Fiona ever remembered hearing it. “And I’m gonna be helpin’ out and stuff. Cash, groceries, whatever. I’m not just freeloadin’.”

Fiona raised a quizzical brow, the offer seeming more generous than it needed to be. She put the last of the groceries away, stealing a pudding cup before sitting down at the table.

Mickey wrapped his fingers around the back of a chair, his knuckles white. “I know you guys got a lot to worry about,” he explained further. “Ian doesn’t need to be thinkin’ about all that shit right now. So whatever I can do. Lighten the load or whatever.”

“Ah, so that’s why you made breakfast this mornin’. And why you’re pretendin’ to like us,” Fiona teased, pulling back the lid on the Snack Pack.

Mickey smiled, taking a seat next to her. “Never meant to give off that impression.”

“Ian’ll always worry about his family,” she said, mouth full of chocolate pudding. “He’s got a big heart.”

“Yeah, well he’ll probably worry less if the lights stay on and Liam doesn’t starve to death.”

Fiona tilted her head in agreement as she caught sight of the pill bottles Mickey had sat out on the counter. “How much did those meds run you?”

“Enough to just about clean me out.”

“I got a little left of what Carl earned but it won’t last long.” She nodded in the direction of the squirrel fund, currently hidden beneath a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets in the freezer. “I gotta give most of it to G-Dogg for what Carl lost so he doesn’t come busting down our door.”

“I’ll handle G-Dogg, might be able to drive the price down.”

Fiona propped her elbow up on the table, resting her chin in her hand. “We going to be able to afford all this? The meds and everything?”

Mickey shrugged, slouching further as his shoulders fell. “We’re okay for now, I got some more stuff goin’ on. Should be comin’ up on another payday soon.”

Fiona cocked her head. “I’m not Ian. You can tell me how it really is.”

“Alright, we’re fucked. He’s gonna be takin these for-” Mickey paused and shook his head, visibly overwhelmed by the thought. “It’s a lot of fuckin’ money,” he said, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Fiona agreed, eyeing the stack of bills at the other end of the table. “It is.”

She scraped her spoon against the sides of the cup, scooping out the last of the pudding and setting the empty container aside. She ran her nail along a dent in the table, carved by Ian years ago when he’d gotten a little overzealous with his first knife.

“Took an aptitude test with my P.O. today. Trying to find out what kind of jobs I should be lookin’ for.” She knitted her brow, not letting herself get too excited about the prospect. “I’m just hopin’ to find something with benefits.”

“Headin’ back to the big leagues?”

“If anyone will take me.”

“You’re welcome to come jerk some guys off at the rub ‘n tug if we ever get back in business,” Mickey offered, smiling at Fiona’s glare.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied dryly.

Fiona let her eyes wander around the room, the quietness of the house adding to her sense of unease. She gathered her hair up into a ponytail and held it there for a moment before letting it fall around her face again, brushing away a strand that fell in front of her eye. She pursed her lips as she stared out the open window, watching the night grow rapidly darker.

“You think he’s gonna see it through this time?” she asked, turning to Mickey expectantly.

Mickey thought it over for a moment, eyes falling on Ian’s meds on the counter. “Doctor said it can take a while to figure it all out, get the meds and the dosage right.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a defeated sigh. “I’m just hopin’ they got it right the first time.”

Fiona nodded and looked away, not feeling the need to point out that the odds weren’t at all in their favor.


	9. Everything You Dreamed

Ian blinked his eyes open, fighting through the fog in his mind as he struggled to wake up. Awareness came slowly, like it did every morning now, until he felt the light weight across his torso and the warm presence along his side. He turned his head to see Mickey gazing at him openly, smiling when Ian met his eyes.

"You watching me sleep again?" Ian turned on his side, wiping at the sleep in the corner of his eyes. He pressed his forehead to Mickey's with an answering tug of his lips. "Getting kind of creepy, Mick."

Mickey laughed breathily into the space between them, tightening his arm around Ian's middle and tangling their legs together. "Whatever, you look good when you sleep. Fuckin’ peaceful or somethin’."

Ian frowned. "Not so crazy, you mean?"

"No." Mickey lifted a hand to stroke over Ian’s cheek and through his hair. "Just...good. I like it.”

Ian sighed, pressing his face into Mickey's neck and kissing him there. He felt Mickey relax against him, hand moving to stroke down his back. Ian pushed into the touch, focusing his energy on the warm sensation.

He went willingly when Mickey pulled his head up, licking into his mouth and rolling them so Ian was splayed on his back. Mickey found purchase with his knees and ground down against Ian as he stroked his tongue lazily against his, the hardness in his boxers already evident. Ian reached up to grab his hips, pulling him tighter against him and willing his body to respond.

“I don’t think,” Ian started, pausing when Mickey kissed him hard again before sliding down his torso. “It’s not gonna-”

“Relax,” Mickey urged, tugging on the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down his thighs. “Just let me.”

Ian sighed when he put his mouth on him, running a hand through Mickey’s hair as he stared up at the ceiling. He heard the sounds of breakfast bleeding in through the door-dishes being tossed into the sink, Debbie and Fiona bickering, Liam’s morning cartoons blaring from the living room. Trying to block it out, he closed his eyes, concentrating hard on the feeling of Mickey’s hot mouth and warm hands. He groaned in frustration when the sensations didn’t produce the usual reaction.

“It’s not working.” Ian tugged lightly on Mickey’s hair, closing his eyes in shame when he pulled his mouth away and looked up at him.

“Hey.” Mickey put Ian’s boxers back in place and stretched out beside him again, grabbing his face and waiting patiently until he opened his eyes to look at him. “Ain’t a big deal. Doc said this would probably happen. It’s temporary.”

Ian shook his head out of Mickey’s grasp. “It _is_ a big deal.”

“She said it would take a few weeks to fuckin’...” Mickey waved his hand around above them, looking for the right words. “Level out or whatever, right? So we just give it some more time.”

“It’s been too long already,” Ian insisted, sitting up and planting his feet on the ground. He hung his head as he listened to Mickey moving around the room, grimacing when he stopped in front of him and offered up his pills and a bottle of Gatorade.

“Mickey, I really don’t want that shit right now.”

“Too bad,” Mickey said, but his tone was gentle. “Come on, take your pills like you know you gotta, and stop being a bitch about it.”

Ian glared at him, but did as instructed, taking a long swallow of the Gatorade to try to combat the dry mouth that always followed. He set the bottle down on the nightstand, looking up at his boyfriend expectantly. “Happy?”

Mickey gripped his face with two hands, holding him in place as he pressed a firm kiss to his lips. He pushed both hands back through Ian’s messy hair, chuckling against his mouth.

“What?”

“You need a haircut.” Mickey smirked as Ian ran a hand over the long strands, surprised to feel them skimming across the back of his neck.

Ian shrugged. “Guess it has been awhile.”

“Tell Svetlana to break out the scissors.” Mickey flinched immediately after the words left his mouth, watching Ian carefully for a reaction.

“If she ever talks to me again, maybe I will.” Ian sighed, twisting his hands together in his lap as they started to shake, the medication taking effect. “Fiona said her and Yevgeny are crashing with Kev.”

“We could go over there, if you want.” Mickey ran a finger over his eyebrow, face filling with apprehension. “Tell her we wanna see the kid.”

Ian shook his head. “Not yet. Wanna make sure...just, not yet.”

“Up to you.” Mickey bent over to place a kiss on the top of his head. “Gonna run to the bathroom, save me some coffee.”

Ian watched him go, sitting quietly as he waited for the subtle tremors coursing through his body to subside. Once the worst of it passed, he stood, pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants and making his way slowly down the staircase, listening with half his attention to Fiona and Veronica talking in the kitchen.

“He thinks he can just move a hooker into our house, and I’m supposed to believe nothing’s going on?”

“Vee, he said-”

“I know what he said,” Veronica snapped. “But I wasn’t born yesterday. He’s a man, Fiona, and he hasn’t gotten laid in weeks. And now there’s a professional hand whore camped out in the house with him.”

“He loves you,” Fiona said seriously. “I don’t have a lot of faith in guys, but you and Kev? That’s the real shit, Vee. He wouldn’t throw it away for a quick fuck. I know you know that.”

“She’s into all that baby shit,” Veronica said quietly, the hurt in her voice coming through clearly. “She breastfeeds, and talks to him about baby food and diaper rashes. They hang out with the babies all the time, take them to the park. All the shit I can’t seem to do right.”

Ian paused on the bottom step, hesitant to interrupt the serious conversation. He considered turning back, but the creak of the stairs gave him away. He smiled weakly when Fiona and Veronica looked up at him, opting to pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

“Mornin’.”

Fiona smiled with false brightness. “Mornin’!”

“Hey, Ian.” Veronica smiled at him, wiping a hand quickly under her eye.

“You hungry?” Fiona pointed to the table where a couple plates were sitting out, covered. “Saved you and Mickey some breakfast.”

“Thanks, Fi.” Ian took a seat and reached for the pot to pour himself a cup of coffee, focusing on keeping his hand steady so he wouldn’t spill.

“You doing alright with the meds?” Veronica looked him over, Ian shifting uncomfortably at the scrutiny as he slowly lifted his mug to his lips. “I took a look at the prescriptions, I know those can have some wicked side effects, at least for the first few weeks.”

Ian stared into the pool of dark liquid, shrugging off the question.

“Just try not to worry about it too much,” Veronica continued, voice deliberately upbeat. “Most of them go away once you adjust.”

“Most,” Ian muttered under his breath.

Fiona watched him closely, the worry evident on her face. “You having trouble with 'em? I’m taking Debs to the clinic in a few, you could come with, we could ask about changing things up.”

“Too soon for that.” Mickey stomped down the stairs and took a seat beside Ian. He uncovered the plates, smiling when he saw the small stacks of pancakes. Grabbing the syrup bottle, he swirled a generous amount over his own plate before adding just a little to Ian’s. “Just went again earlier this week, we gotta wait awhile to see if things resolve on their own before we start messing with the cocktail.”

“That a direct quote?” Fiona asked, amused. She shifted her gaze to Ian when Mickey shrugged and started in on his pancakes, a careful smile falling into place. “So Ian, have you thought about gettin’ a new job?”

Ian blinked at her in surprise, picking up his fork when Mickey nudged his arm and pointed at his plate. “Um, yeah, I need to. Haven’t figured out what, though.”

Fiona came around the counter, pulling out a chair across from them with her mug in hand. “Well, I was thinkin’. Sean’s lookin’ to hire a new guy for the diner. Someone to do dishes, help out with bussin’ tables, that kind of thing. Could come over with me today if you’re interested, I bet he’d hire you no problem.”

Ian took a big bite of pancakes to avoid answering right away, pushing down the nausea swirling in his stomach and avoiding Mickey’s encouraging look. “A dishwasher job?”

“Yeah,” Fiona said enthusiastically, smile dimming at his subdued reaction. “What, you don’t wanna do it? I thought getting into a new routine with work and everything would be good.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” Ian shook his head, smiling tightly. “Nevermind. That sounds great, Fiona. Thanks.”

“Great! My shift starts at 2, you can come in with me. Sean already knows about Carl’s hearing tomorrow, so I’m sure he’ll be cool with you starting later in the week.”

"How’s Carl doing?" Ian asked, genuinely curious as well as eager for a subject change.

Fiona sighed, running her hands over her ponytail to smooth it out. "Okay, I think. Says juvie's fine and he's handling himself, but he seems kinda scared."

Mickey paused with his loaded fork halfway to his mouth, looking up at her. "Anyone been messin' with him?"

"Nothin' major, far as I know. He looked okay." Fiona took another swallow of coffee before blowing out a loud breath. "I'm just nervous about the hearing. He's been pushin' back with the lawyer, doesn't wanna apologize to the judge."

Ian raised a brow. "They think he could get off without time if he does?"

"Yeah, the public defender thinks he can swing community service and probation if Carl just plays the part. But I don't know if we can get him to do it. You know how he is about his rep."

Ian nodded as Mickey went back to eating his pancakes, reminding him to take another bite. He washed it down with more coffee before replying. "Maybe Lip could talk to him."

"Yeah, I shot him a text about it. Fingers crossed Carl actually listens."

Ian looked away from her when Liam came running into the room, the hat from last year’s Halloween costume perched precariously on his head.

“Ian, come play with me.”

Chuckling lightly, Ian pulled him up to sit on his lap. “After I finish my breakfast, Mario.”

“Okay,” Liam said agreeably, leaning back against his chest to wait. He watched in fascination as Mickey poured more syrup on his pancakes. “Fi says you’re not s’posed to put that much.”

Mickey cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Well Fi ain’t the boss of me.”

Liam’s mouth dropped open in a scandalized look. “But she’s the boss of everyone.”

“Damn straight,” Fiona laughed, pushing playfully at Mickey’s head as she walked back around the counter to clean up. “And I’m charging you a syrup tax if you don’t ease up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll put some fuckin’ syrup money in the squirrel fund.”

Veronica looked up from her phone, smiling at him. “Startin’ to sound like a Gallagher, Mickey. Better watch out, or they’ll get their hooks in you for life.”

Mickey looked down at his plate and muttered something too low for Ian to hear, but the faint flush on his cheeks didn’t escape his notice. He pressed his leg more firmly against Mickey’s under the table, smiling slightly as the blush deepened. At least he could still make his boyfriend feel something.

“You wanna play with us, Mickey?” Liam stared at him with baleful eyes. “You can wear the Luigi hat!”

“Yeah, come on, Mick,” Ian echoed, stifling his laughter at Mickey’s horrified look. “You can wear the Luigi hat.”

“Oh my god,” Debbie snorted, coming down the stairs fully dressed, purse slung over her shoulder. “Ian, if he gets Mickey to wear that thing, you better take a picture.”

Ian chuckled as Mickey shook his head. “Don’t think there’s much chance of that.”

Fiona wiped her hands on the towel, throwing the strap of her bag over her head. “Ian, you good to hang with Liam for a few hours? No Head Start today, and I need to run Debs to school after her appointment. Vee’s gonna be close too, if you need anything.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Ian replied, pulling his arm tighter around Liam and leaning down to speak in his ear. “You wanna stay and play with me and Mickey, right bud?”

“Yeah!” Liam cheered, jumping down to the floor and reaching for Mickey’s hand. “Come on, let’s go get the toys.”

Ian watched as Liam towed Mickey into the living room, smirking at the panicked look he threw over his shoulder. He met Fiona’s amused expression, waving her off as he finished his pancakes and stood from the table. “Go, we’ll be fine.”

“Have fun at the clinic,” Veronica called on her way up the stairs. “Don’t forget to grab some freebies.”

Fiona grinned as she ushered Debbie out the door. “Never do. Okay Ian, be back in awhile. Don’t forget, Patsy’s at 2.”

Ian nodded and held his smile until they were out the door. Once he was alone, he slumped against the counter, dumping his plate in the sink and starting the tap. He watched listlessly as the water circled the drain.

*

Carl held his head high as he made his way through the recreation room and towards the phone bank, shooting defiant stares at the boys who were looking at him like he was fresh meat. He grimaced when one of them knocked deliberately into his shoulder, but kept his gaze straight ahead and his feet moving forward.

“Gallagher thinks he’s tough ‘cause he runs with G-Dogg’s crew,” one of the older boys announced loudly, drawing more unwanted attention Carl’s way. “Where your homies at now, kid?”

Carl tried to keep his face blank, but something must have slipped through. He heard the others start to laugh and tried to ignore it.

“He ain’t with us,” another boy said from across the room. Carl looked up to see a group of vaguely familiar teens gathered around a table in the corner. All from the neighborhood, all associated with his former crew. “Boss must have been gettin’ into the product when he decided to bring whitey on. See how well that worked out.”

Carl brushed off the sting, joining the line in front of the phones. He waited anxiously as it slowly inched forward, the unappetizing breakfast he’d forced down swirling uncomfortably in his stomach. He looked to the guard in question once he reached the front and saw there was a phone available.

"One call, five minutes. Keep it moving."

Grabbing the receiver eagerly, Carl dialed a number he'd recently memorized, nervous as he listened to the ring on the other side of the line, followed by a hold as the operator asked for permission to connect the call.

"Carl?"

He sighed in relief at the familiar sound of Mickey’s impatient tone. "Yeah, it’s me."

"What the fuck you callin' for? You okay?"

Carl opened his mouth to answer, but felt his breath leave him when he heard the sound of Liam singing along with his cartoons in the background. The sudden pang of homesickness was overwhelming.

"Carl!"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay," he finally replied, shaking his head in an effort to banish the unwelcome feeling. "Just wanted to see how things are at home."

"So you called _me_?" Mickey asked dryly. "Hang on." Carl listened with growing amusement as he caught the tenor of Ian's voice in the background, peppering Mickey with questions. "Nah, he's fine. Just wants to talk. 'Cause I'm cooler than you, douchebag. Don't worry about it."

The sound of the cartoons diminished, followed by the smack of the screen door slamming against the frame as Mickey started speaking again. "Alright, had to get away from the interrogation squad. So what's really goin' on?"

Carl shrugged, then remembered Mickey couldn't see him. "Just wanted to say hi."

"Kid, you got about three minutes left on the phone. How about you stop bullshittin' me and get to the fuckin' point."

"The lawyer wants me to lie," Carl blurted out, relieved to have it off his chest. "He wants me to tell the judge someone took advantage of me, that I didn't really understand what I was doing."

Mickey paused. "Know it don't feel like it to you, but that ain’t really a lie."

"I can't say that shit," Carl argued uncertainly, keeping his voice low in an effort to prevent the guards and other inmates from overhearing. "Tell everyone that I'm sorry for what I did. I'm not sorry! We needed that money, and I got it when no one else could. And I knew what I was doing, I was fucking good at it!"

“Not that good, or you wouldn’t have been picked up.” Mickey sighed heavily. "I get it, man. You got a rep, right? And you don't want no one thinkin' you're weak. Want 'em to see you as some badass who don't care about servin' time."

Carl nodded. "That's what I'm supposed to do, right?"

"I don't know, man. That’s what I would have done when I was your age. Hell, maybe even a few months ago. But lately I been thinkin’ there's more important shit than your rep."

Carl scoffed. "Like what?"

"Like family,” Mickey said forcefully. “How you think your sister's gonna do with you gone? Said you did this to help her with bills and shit. How you gonna help her from inside?"

Carl swallowed hard, staying silent as he thought about Fiona trying to keep things afloat with half her family gone.

"And your brother." Mickey's voice shook a little, but he took a breath to get it under control. "He ain't doin' too good. Bet it'd make him happy, havin' you home."

Carl felt his eyes prick as he thought about Ian, how rough he looked the last time he saw him. He blinked quickly to push the moisture away.

“Look, you didn’t roll on G-Dogg, right?” Mickey waited, continuing when Carl made a sound of confirmation. “So he won’t come after you. Way I see it, you do what you gotta do to get home. Take care of your people. You hearin’ me?”

“Yeah,” Carl breathed, stopping when the recording cut him off to tell them they only had thirty seconds left. He spoke urgently as soon as it finished. “Mickey, you’re coming to the sentencing, right?”

“If you want.”

“Please,” Carl said, glancing over to see the guard watching him.

“Alright, I’ll be there. Keep your head up.”

Carl closed his eyes as the line cut out, resting his forehead against the payphone. He startled when the guard barked at him to move along, setting the phone back in the receiver. Carl straightened his shoulders, raised his head, and headed back into the fray.

*

Debbie followed the nurse into the cramped exam room, smiling nervously and glancing back over her shoulder to make sure Fiona was behind her. She reached out and squeezed Debbie’s shoulder encouragingly, and Debbie had to resist the urge to lean back against her.

The nurse set the chart with the information she’d already recorded on the counter, gesturing toward the large chair covered in paper. “Go ahead and have a seat, the doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

Debbie sat down as the nurse left the room, eyes wandering and taking in the anatomy posters on the wall and the model of a uterus on a nearby table. She watched as Fiona plunged her hand into a big bowl of condoms next to it, grabbing a handful and shoving them into her jacket pocket.

“Seriously?” Debbie snorted, laughing when Fiona shrugged sheepishly.

“They want you to take them!”

Debbie shook her head. “Uh huh. Like you’re even gonna use them anyway. When’s the last time you had a date?”

Fiona scowled, smacking her arm lightly. “Hasn’t been that long.”

“Yeah, right.” Debbie jumped down from the exam chair, wandering over to the nearest poster and tracing her finger over the images before moving on to leaf through some pamphlets that were fanned out on the table. “I can’t remember the last time you went this long without a boyfriend.”

Fiona looked down, scuffing her toe into the carpet and hunching her shoulders uncomfortably. “Yeah well, maybe that’s the problem.”

Debbie eyed her curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I just been thinkin’ lately about all that shit with Robbie and Mike, and Jimmy before that,” Fiona explained, voice turning wistful for a moment before hardening. “That drama wasn’t good for me, or for you guys. Thought maybe I should take a break.”

“From dating?” Debbie shot her a skeptical look.

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Fiona ran a hand over her hair, sighing deeply. “I just got so caught up in it, lost my focus on what really mattered. And look what happened.”

“Liam’s okay, Fiona,” Debbie reassured her, coming to stand beside her against the counter. “It’s over. And no offense, but I don’t think guys were really the problem. Robbie seemed like an asshole, but...”

“He’s not the one who left coke out on the kitchen counter?” Fiona shook her head. “I know. Just me makin’ excuses again.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Debbie pressed closer, nudging their shoulders together. “It was an accident. We all forgave you for it a long time ago.”

Fiona rubbed a hand over her eyes, leaning her weight more heavily against Debbie.

“I just meant-if you wanted that again, to have someone. You should. I didn’t really trust Jimmy, but it was kind of nice when he was around. You were happy.”

Fiona smiled sadly. “You think so? Sometimes I think I exaggerate it in my head, make it better than it was, you know?”

Debbie shrugged. “You seemed happy to me. Although, maybe next time you could pick a guy who’s not a pathological liar.”

Fiona snorted. “Thanks for the dating advice, Debs. Got it all figured out, huh?”

Debbie smiled shyly, turning to fiddle with the uterus replica. “I don’t know. But I think Derek’s good.”

“Yeah?” Fiona smiled, bumping her hip gently against Debbie’s. “What makes you sure?”

Debbie blushed, hands fumbling and knocking the model over. She brought her voice down to a hush, trusting Fiona with her secret. “I think he really likes me. Like, he thinks I’m smart and funny and pretty, and he likes hanging out with me, even if we’re not doing anything. And he listens to me talk about you guys and he remembers stuff I say and he likes kissing me and it’s just...nice. _He’s_ nice.”

Fiona’s eyes misted over as she listened, Debbie’s blush deepening further in response. She watched Fiona warily, waiting for her reaction.

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“No,” Fiona said, laughing and pulling her close, resting her head against hers and stroking a hand through her hair. Debbie returned the hug, letting herself be a kid again for just a minute. “I think you’re a smart fuckin’ girl, wanting to be with a guy like that. Smarter than I ever was.”

The door opened abruptly, interrupting their moment. Debbie stepped back from Fiona, turning to see the doctor entering the room.

“Ms. Gallagher?”

“Yeah,” she replied quickly. “Well, we’re both Ms. Gallagher, but I’m _the_ Ms. Gallagher, I mean- the one who needs the stuff.”

Fiona bit her lip, clearly amused by her sister’s nervous chattering. “This is Debbie, I’m her older sister and guardian, Fiona.”

“Great, and I’m Dr. Bennet.” She turned to Debbie, gesturing for her to have a seat. “I understand you want to start on birth control pills.”

“That’s right.” Debbie squirmed around on the exam chair, trying to get comfortable. She finally settled with her hands tucked under her thighs, shoulders hunched as she watched the doctor apprehensively.

“It says here that you’re fourteen, that you’ve been menstruating regularly since last year, and that you are not yet sexually active. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but I want to be,” Debbie answered, glancing quickly at Fiona. “I’m going to be. Soon. So I want to protect myself.”

Dr. Bennet nodded, jotting down a couple lines on her chart. “Okay, well I’ve got some starter pills here that you can take home with you today, and we’ll see how you do on them. Every woman reacts differently to various types of birth control, so if you experience any bad side effects we can always try another method.”

“Great!” Debbie hopped off the chair, relieved that it was so easy. “Do we just get them at the front desk?”

“Hold up a second,” Dr. Bennet admonished, fixing Debbie with a stern look until she sat back down. “Pay attention, this is no joke. These pills won’t begin to work for a week-seven days. If you plan to have intercourse before then, you need to use alternate protection. Do you understand?”

Debbie nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

“There are condoms on the table, please help yourself. I would recommend using them even after your birth control kicks in. You’re a young girl, and even if you follow the instructions for the pills exactly, they’re not one hundred percent effective. Best not to take chances with an unwanted pregnancy or an STD.”

“Okay,” Debbie said weakly, trying to push away the anxiety caused by the doctor’s words. She watched as Fiona grabbed another handful of condoms, stuffing them in her purse with a wink.

“Now, I’d prefer to do a pelvic exam before you leave today. I know the idea is uncomfortable, but it will help us to ensure that all is well before you become sexually active.”

Debbie looked to Fiona uncertainly, feeling apprehension bubbling up inside of her. Fiona shrugged, smiling sympathetically.

“You think you’re ready for sex? Then I think you’re ready to put those feet up in the stirrups.”

Debbie swallowed hard, eyeing the exam table cautiously.

“Just think of it as a rite of passage, Debs,” Fiona continued, stepping closer to rub a comforting hand down her arm with a mischievous smile. “Uncomfortable exams and strangers all up in your lady business. Welcome to being a woman.”

Debbie smiled at the words and squared her shoulders, turning back to the doctor. “I’m ready.”

*

Lip walked slowly down the hall, waving to other students absentmindedly as he listened to his brother. "I don't know, I think it sounds like a good thing. New routine, you know?"

"Everyone keeps saying that," Ian groaned, the exhaustion in his voice evident even across the phone line. "Like me going to a shitty job a few hours a day is gonna suddenly make me feel normal again."

"Since you were like fourteen years old, you've always gone to a shitty job for a few hours a day," Lip joked, attempting to lighten his mood. "Sounds like normal Ian to me."

He sighed heavily. "I guess.”

“And hey, you’re the one who keeps saying you don’t wanna be like Monica, right?” Lip stopped in front of his door, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he reached into his pocket for the key. “Workin’ a regular job and taking your meds-that’s pretty much as far from Monica as it gets.”

Ian remained quiet for a long pause, before audibly inhaling and releasing a breath. “I'm tired, gonna take a nap."

Lip winced at his pinched tone. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Ian cut him off abruptly, but his tone was gentler. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll talk to you later.”

"Alright, man, get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow." Lip pushed his door open, lips tugging upward and shoulders relaxing when he saw Amanda sitting cross-legged on his bed, textbook open in her lap and a highlighter tucked behind her ear.

He dropped the phone on his desk, dumping his bag on the chair and toeing off his shoes before heading over to the bed. Ignoring Amanda’s disgruntled yelp, Lip tossed the book onto the floor and sprawled out with his head in her lap, closing his eyes when her hand automatically moved to stroke through his hair.

“Rough day?”

Lip sighed, turning to press his face into the bend of her knee and kissing her leg. “And it’s not even over yet. Got a cafeteria shift in an hour.”

“I know, I’m the one who updates your calendar.” He startled when Amanda grabbed his head, turning his face up so she could meet his eyes. “How’s Ian?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, reaching up to tug on a strand of her hair. “He sounds tired. Beyond tired.”

“Well he’s on some pretty strong meds, right?” Amanda lifted his head to scoot out from under him, sliding down to rest beside him with her head propped up on her hand. “Takes awhile to adjust. My aunt went on antidepressants a few years back. First month or so, she was like a zombie. But it didn’t stay like that.”

“We’re kinda in new territory.” Lip turned to face her, pushing his leg forward to settle between hers. “Monica never made it this far with the meds, so we never had to contend with long term side effects. I just don’t know what to tell him, what’s actually true that doesn’t sound fucking awful.”

“About the pills?”

Lip nodded. “I did my research, and what it boils down to is they don’t know. They gotta try a bunch of different shit, keep tweaking it until they find the magic recipe that works. And even if they do, there’s no guarantee it’ll last. He could just be going along one day, doin' everything right and thinking he’s fine, and suddenly something shifts and he’s not okay anymore. How fucked is that?”

Amanda pressed closer, reaching her arm across his stomach and settling against his shoulder. “Pretty fucked.”

“And he’s gotta do this the rest of his life. I don’t want him to get sick of it and quit.”

Amanda reached out to cup his cheek. “You can’t make the decision for him.”

Lip sighed. “I know, but...I just wish I was there. I feel fucking useless. Ian’s out of it, Fiona and Mickey are scrambling to pay for this shit, Carl’s in lock up and about to get sentenced. And what am I doing? Laying around in a fucking dorm room.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Amanda pushed herself up and lifted a leg over his hips, straddling him and pressing down firmly on his chest. “No more poor little Lip. You’re not ‘laying around in a dorm room’.”

He shot her a disbelieving look, gesturing emphatically between them.

“Okay, technically, right this second, you are. But that’s not what you’re really doing here. School’s important, and your family knows that. And you’re doing great this semester, you’ve been right on schedule with your work.”

Lip groaned as he remembered something from one of his morning classes. “You know Barton announced the midterm project today? Twenty page paper, _fifty fucking percent_ of our grade for the semester. And I need that class for the engineering major, I can’t drop.”

“You don’t need to drop,” Amanda replied, squinting up at the color coded schedule on the wall over his desk and twisting a piece of hair around her finger. “This is totally manageable. I’ll make a study plan, you’ll be fine.”

Lip gazed up at her, smiling bemusedly. “Nothing phases you, huh?”

Amanda shrugged, pulling his wrist close to look at the face of his watch. “We’ve still got 25 minutes before you have to leave to walk over to the cafeteria.”

Lip raised a brow, pulling his knees up to press into her back and running a hand up and down her thigh. “You got ideas for those 25 minutes?”

“I always have ideas,” she said, and bent down to press her lips to his.

*

Ian woke to the sound of rustling from the opposite corner of the room. Wiping at his eyes, he propped himself up on an elbow and peered blearily over at the bunk beds.

"Frank?"

He froze at the sound of his name, two of Carl's pillows clutched tightly in his hands. A moment later, he shrugged, tossing the pillows to the floor and going back to searching for something in Carl's sheets.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Ian sat up all the way, shaking his head in an attempt to clear out the cobwebs.

"I know they're here somewhere," Frank muttered, dropping onto his knees and bending down to look under the bed.

Ian laughed in disbelief, struck by a realization. "The weed? Is that what you're looking for?"

Frank looked up at him hopefully. "Do you know where Carl put his stash? I already checked all the good hiding spots downstairs."

"Stealing drugs from your own kid.” Ian shook his head, grabbing the water bottle Mickey had left for him on the nightstand and taking a long swallow before continuing. “And when his boss wants the supply back? What do you think happens to Carl then?"

Frank shrugged. "Finders keepers, right? G-Dogg's a reasonable man, I'm sure he'd let it go with just a light beatdown."

Ian eyed him with disgust. "That's a new low, even for you, Frank."

Frank brushed him off, walking across the floor on his knees to check behind the dresser.

"You're too late," Ian said, standing from the bed and heading for the door. "Fiona already returned the stash to its rightful owner, so you can stop your pointless search."

Ian entered the bathroom just as Frank cursed loudly and banged his hand against the wall. He closed the door, leaning back against it and listening closely as Frank went back downstairs, rifling through cabinets in the kitchen for a few minutes before finally exiting out the back door.

Sighing in relief once he was gone, Ian looked up and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Despite the afternoon nap, he still looked worn out, the dark circles under his eyes standing out starkly against his pale skin. He walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing some cold water on his face before heading down the stairs and toward the cupboard where they kept the squirrel fund.

Ian reached up and pulled the bag with his pill bottles down, lining them up on the kitchen counter and eyeing them with distaste. He reached for the bottle that contained his evening dose, vision growing fuzzy around the edges as he stared at the label.

“You actually gonna take those, or you trying to win a staring contest with the bottle?”

Ian glanced up in surprise to see Mandy watching him from where she was leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her dirty work uniform.

“When did you get here?”

“Just a minute ago.” Mandy came to stand beside him, looking pointedly at the bottle in his hands.

Ian frowned as he twisted the cap off. He shook out two pills and tossed them back, washing them down with another swig of water.

“There, all drugged up,” he said, putting the bottles back in their hiding place and walking towards the living room, Mandy following behind. He collapsed on the couch, allowing Mandy to shove his legs over to make room for herself beside him.

Ian closed his eyes when she reached out to run a hand lightly over his cheek. “How you feeling today? You look tired.”

He shrugged. “Always tired.” He reached into his pocket when his phone chimed, smiling slightly before typing a quick response and throwing it down on the cushion.

“That Mickey? Where’s he at?”

“Had to go meet up with Iggy.” Ian looked down at his lap, fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt. “Something to do with the product they moved a couple weeks ago.”

“Right, forgot. So what have you been doing?”

“Went to the diner with Fiona.” Ian glanced over at her, wanting to gauge her reaction. “She convinced her boss to give me a job washing dishes.”

Mandy smiled, nudging his shoulder with hers. “Yeah? That’s great.”

Ian stared at her with open skepticism. “You think so?”

Mandy nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. It’ll be good for you, starting a-”

“If you say new routine, I swear I’m gonna lose my shit.”

She turned to him in surprise, peering at him more closely. “What’s up with you?”

Ian sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Everyone keeps fucking saying that. It’s like you’re all reading from a handbook about how to talk to mental patients.”

Mandy grimaced. “Sorry.”

Ian waved her apology away, feeling guilty for snapping at her. “I don’t know, I’m just not excited about the job. So I get to spend my days cleaning up after people at a shitty diner. Big fucking deal.”

“Thanks a lot,” Mandy huffed, picking at a food stain on her skirt and running a hand through her limp ponytail.

Ian groaned, slumping down further and butting his head into her shoulder. “Sorry. I’m just gonna shut up now.”

“It’s okay,” Mandy said gently, reaching over to grab his hand. “This job’s okay for me. It’s steady and legal and safe, most of the time. Better than I ever thought I’d do. But I know you wanted more.”

Ian gripped her hand, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “I was gonna be something, you know?” Ian shook his head, voice lowering to a murmur. “Now I can’t even hold down a job in a fuckin’ strip club.”

“You know, this shit is fixable, Ian.”

He turned to her with an impatient glare.

“Okay, maybe not all of it,” Mandy admitted. “The army stuff is probably fucked for good. But you could get a better job, or finish school if you want. Would be easy to get your GED. I’ve been thinkin’ about it, we could do it together.”

Ian blinked rapidly to fight against the tears he could feel building behind his eyes. “I can’t imagine doing any of that anymore.”

“Hey,” Mandy said forcefully, grabbing his chin and meeting his eyes. “You can do whatever you want. You’re just havin’ a rough time right now. It’ll get better.”

“Will it?” Ian closed his eyes again, ignoring the tear he could feel slipping down his cheek and hoping that Mandy wouldn’t comment on it. “What would you do, Mandy? If it was you, and everything you wanted, everything you dreamed. It was all just gone.”

“Not everything.”

“What?”

Mandy nodded toward his phone, the display lit up with a picture of him and Mickey. “I can think of something you still got, and you dreamed about that a hell of a lot more than the rest.”

Ian shook his head as he gestured to himself disparagingly. “You think this is really what Mickey wants? I’m a mess, Mandy. He’s like my fucking nurse more than my boyfriend these days.”

Mandy blinked in surprise. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s always hovering, watching me to make sure I eat and sleep and take my pills. He’s getting in deep again with shit he was trying to leave behind, just so he can pay for my meds. And what does he even get out of it? I’m fucking useless most of the time.” Ian swallowed hard, looking away from her. “Can’t even fuck him anymore.”

Mandy squinted at him, puzzling it out. “You mean like a side effect? You can’t keep it up?”

“Yeah,” Ian admitted quietly.

Mandy scowled, leaning forward aggressively. “Is he being a dick about it? I swear to god, I’ll break out my baton.”

“No, he says it’s no big deal, it doesn’t matter.” He laughed hollowly. “Maybe not to him.”

Ian looked up to see Mandy gazing at him, confusion written clearly across her face. He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to make her understand.

"Before, when things were still…” he waved his hand, as if gesturing towards the past. “I used to try to find ways to get him to touch me. It was like an electric shock or something. I was addicted to it.”

He reached for his phone and pressed the button to re-illuminate the screen, tracing over the picture and avoiding Mandy’s eyes as he felt hot tears leaking out of the corners of his.

“And even after that, when we were together for real and he touched me all the time. It was still _so good_. Mickey touched me, and I lit up."

Ian shook his head as he caught sight of Mandy’s gentle smile from the corner of his eye, knowing she was missing the point. He scrubbed a hand over his face before looking back at her, expression turning flat and lifeless.

"Now he touches me, and I don't feel anything. One more thing taken from me."

Mandy’s eyes filled with tears, understanding finally dawning on her face. She reached for him wordlessly, pulling him in close and hugging him tight. Ian sunk into the familiar comfort of his best friend, laying his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes.

*

Debbie sat tucked into the corner of the couch, eyes eagerly watching the door. She glanced at her phone screen again, checking to see how much time had passed.

“One minute,” she scoffed. “Come _on_.”

She jumped to her feet when she heard a car pull up to the curb, twitching the curtains aside and smiling when she saw Derek stepping out from the driver’s side and heading up the sidewalk. Running to the front door, she ran a hand over her hair to smooth it out before opening it with a bright smile.

“Hey.”

Derek grinned back at her as he stepped onto the porch. “Hi.”

“I didn’t know you had a car,” Debbie babbled nervously. “You don’t have a license yet, right? Are you even allowed to drive? I mean, not that I care or anything, I’m just wondering.”

Derek chuckled, tucking his hands in his jean pockets as he came to stand in front of her. “I have my permit already, and it’s not a long drive. My dad doesn’t care as long as I’m careful.”

“Cool.” Debbie took a breath to center herself, beckoning him forward. “Um, come on, come inside.”

Debbie stepped back as Derek entered, startling when he darted forward to kiss her. She relaxed into it after a moment, blushing when he pulled away.

"So are your brothers and sisters around?"

Debbie shook her head quickly. "Fiona's at work 'til late. And Ian and Liam are sleeping. So we can hang out, just us."

Derek nodded agreeably. "How's Ian?"

Debbie smiled, touched that he thought to ask. "Okay, I think. He seems kind of out of it most of the time. But Fiona said that'll get better once he adjusts to the meds."

"That's good.” Derek glanced around the living room curiously. “So what do you wanna do?"

Debbie grabbed his hand, turning for the stairs and throwing an inviting look over her shoulder. "Let's go up to my room."

They stayed quiet as they climbed the stairs, Debbie gesturing for Derek to precede her into her bedroom. She paused in the hallway, listening for any sign that her brothers had woken up, before closing the door firmly behind them.

Derek walked around the small space, taking in the posters and artwork on her wall. He pointed to a picture of two figures holding hands, rendered in crayon. "Did you draw this stuff?"

Debbie nodded as she traced a finger over the figure with yellow hair. "One time when my mom was home, she decided I was gonna be an artist when I grew up. So she went out and bought all these art supplies, and we spent a whole day drawing together."

"That sounds fun."

Her smile faded as she remembered the rest of the story. "The money she used was supposed to be for the electric bill. We didn't have lights for a week. Fiona was so mad."

Derek frowned, looking around awkwardly as if he didn't know what to say. Debbie laughed uncomfortably, moving to sit on the bed and gesturing for him to follow.

"Nevermind about that. I went to the clinic today."

Derek raised his brows as he took a seat next to her. "What’s wrong, are you sick or something?"

"No, I mean. I went to get stuff.” Debbie felt her cheeks flushing as she gestured between them. “So like, we could have sex. If you want to."

“Oh,” Derek said, drawing out the word on a long breath. “That’s...that’s really cool.”

Debbie watched him closely. “So you want to?”

He nodded eagerly, leaning in to brush a soft kiss over her lips and wrapping an arm around her back. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay.” Debbie twisted her hands together in her lap, forcing out the next words. “I know you’re a lot more experienced than me. So like, if I do something wrong-”

“What?” He blinked at her in surprise.

“I just want it to be...good.” Debbie looked away, pressing a hand to her face in embarrassment.

“Hey,” Derek gripped her hand, turning her chin so he could look her in the eye. “It will be.”

Debbie smiled nervously, looking down at the bedspread and tracing her finger over the familiar pattern.

“If I tell you a secret, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

She looked back up at him curiously. “Sure.”

He leaned in close, speaking directly into her ear in a hushed tone. “I’ve never done this before either.”

Debbie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way.”

Derek shrugged. “It’s true.”

“But-but you-” she sputtered, turning to face him fully. “You’re older than me, and you’re so cute, and you work out, and you have a car, and-”

Derek cut her off with another kiss, holding onto her for a moment until she calmed and kissed him back. Pulling back, he smiled at her, cheeks red. “Guess I was just waiting for the right girl.”

Debbie gripped his shirt, falling back against the bed and pulling him down with her. She reached her hands up to run through his hair, brow raising in question when he pulled back.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom.” He looked away, trying to cover the frustration in his expression. “I didn’t expect this tonight.”

Debbie’s eyes widened, remembering the pile of condoms that were still sitting in Fiona’s purse, which she’d taken with her to the diner. She hesitated, looking up at Derek’s face. Opening her mouth to tell him they should wait, she was surprised by her own words.

“It’s okay, I started my birth control.” Debbie swallowed hard as she felt the lie bubbling up her throat. “We’re safe.”

“Yeah?” Derek smiled at her, stroking a hand over her cheek. “Are you sure?”

Debbie thought fast, calculating the risk and considering the magnitude of the lie. She looked into his eyes, basking in the warmth of his presence, the knowledge that he actually wanted her overwhelming her and cancelling out the rest. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

*

Lip opened the front door and stepped into the living room, smiling at the familiar sounds of a chaotic Gallagher morning floating in from the kitchen.

"I want pancakes!"

"Sorry, milk dud, no time today." Fiona sounded frazzled, running past the entryway to get to the dryer and pulling the t-shirt she'd obviously slept in over her head on the way. "Debs, can you pour him some cereal?"

"I don't want cereal!" Liam insisted, making an exaggerated grouchy face and looking Fiona's way.

Lip chuckled as he stepped into the room. "Come on Liam, don't give Fi a hard time today."

"Lip!" His name was called from all directions, Liam's high-pitched voice rising above the din. He jumped down from his chair and ran across the kitchen, hurtling himself into Lip's legs and hugging them tight.

"Thought you couldn't make it today," Fiona said as she started buttoning up her blouse, voice a mixture of confusion and relief. “Don’t you got class?”

Lip reached down to grab Liam under the armpits, pulling him up onto his hip and pressing a kiss to his cheek, laughing when he returned the gesture enthusiastically. "I worked it out, couldn't miss Carl's big day."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Debbie snorted, placing a box of cereal and a carton of milk on the table.

Veronica followed behind her with a stack of bowls and spoons. "It _is_ kind of a big day, either way, right? Either Carl's going to juvie or he's letting go of his life of crime."

"It better be the second one," Fiona growled, returning to the counter to pour more coffee into her mug. "You get a chance to talk to him, Lip?"

Lip shook his head guiltily. "Nah, I didn’t get a call from him."

Fiona's face dropped. "Shit."

"Figured I could get in a word with him before the sentencing, though, if we get there a little early." Lip walked over to the table, settling Liam in a chair and placing a bowl in front of him as he reached for the cereal box. "Which is why Liam's gonna stop complaining and eat his cereal like a big boy so we can get going. Right, bud?"

Liam sighed dramatically, reaching for a spoon. "Okay, but just today."

“We appreciate your sacrifice, Liam,” Debbie joked, scrubbing a hand over his hair as she took the seat next to him and poured her own bowl of cereal, topping them both with milk.

“How’s it going, Debs?” Lip asked, watching as she smiled down at her phone. “You look pretty cheerful for this early in the morning.”

Debbie shrugged, but failed to hide the faint blush on her cheeks. “Just in a good mood today.”

Lip squinted at her, trying to suss out the reason for her chipper demeanor. “Something happen with-”

“Oh come on,” Fiona groaned, stealing Lip’s attention as she read from a piece of paper she’d pulled from an envelope. “Sales and hospitality. Thanks a fucking lot.”

Lip raised a brow. “What is that?”

“Career aptitude test.” Veronica smiled at him mischievously from over Fiona’s shoulder, snatching the paper from her hands and running around to the other side of the counter. “‘You are stimulated and excited by new experiences.’ Well shit, who isn’t?” Veronica’s face dropped. “Can’t remember the last time I was properly stimulated.”

“Give that back!” Fiona lunged across the stove, trying and failing to grab the paper.

Veronica shook her head and resumed reading with a smile. “‘You know how to have a good time and how to make things exciting and fun for others at work.’ I know you always make it fun for me. ‘You enjoy being spontaneous.’” Veronica snorted. “This thing’s got you pegged.”

Fiona glared at her as Lip turned to her with a question. “Where’d this come from?”

“Johnson made me take it.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “Wants me to start thinkin' about my future career. Which is apparently gonna be the same shit I’m already doing.”

Debbie stood, taking the results from Veronica and scanning her eyes over the page curiously. “It doesn’t mean it has to be the _same_ job. Just that, you know, you’re already doing something you’re good at. ‘You find it easy to adapt to change and your best jobs will value your good communication skills.’ That sounds like you, Fiona."

“It really does,” Lip agreed, taking the sheet from Debbie and reading the full summary. “So sales or hospitality, huh? You did like that cup job before-”

“Before I fucked it up by fucking my boss?” Fiona tore the paper from his hands triumphantly, folding it and tucking it into her bra before doing up her last few buttons.

“And his brother,” Lip said playfully, smirking when she swatted at his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

Lip shrugged with a smile, reaching for his phone when he heard a text alert. He saw a message from Amanda waiting.

_Where are you? Thought we were going to outline the paper for Barton._

Lip rubbed at his eyebrow, thinking for a minute before pocketing his phone again without replying. He looked back up at his family, opening his mouth to urge them to get going, but stopped when he heard heavy footsteps descending the stairs.

“Come on Gallaghers, let’s move.” Mickey stepped into the kitchen, twirling a set of keys on his fingers. Ian followed behind him, head down and hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You’re coming with?” Lip asked, taken aback by Mickey’s authoritative tone.

Mickey raised a brow. “Thought you were busy at school.”

“Mickey’s driving,” Fiona explained, taking one last gulp of coffee before setting her mug in the sink. “You know how to get there, right?”

Ian snorted, lifting his head to shoot Mickey an amused look. “He’s familiar with the place.”

Lip smirked, catching his brother’s eye. “Yeah, but does he usually drive himself? Or do the cops give him a ride in the backseat?”

His smirk deepened when Mickey flipped him off, then grabbed Ian’s hand to tow him towards the front of the house. “Come on, we got better things to do than bust my chops. You assholes wanna be late, or what?”

Fiona rifled through her bag until she found her lipstick. “We ready, guys? Think we can all still fit in the car if we squeeze.”

“I’m done!” Liam announced, jumping off his chair and bringing his cup and spoon to the sink, dodging around Debbie as she moved to put the milk back in the fridge. “Wanna go see Carl.”

“Alright, we’re going,” Fiona said, grabbing a napkin to wipe a stray bit of milk from the corner of his mouth. “Go get your shoes. Vee, how do I look?”

Veronica patted her cheek as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “Like guardian of the year.”

Lip watched as they all headed out the front door, bringing up the rear. He stopped on the porch and reached for his phone when he heard it chime again.

_You went to Carl’s hearing, didn’t you? Thought you couldn’t miss class today._

Sighing guiltily, Lip turned the ringer off and ran down the walkway to squeeze in beside his sisters in the backseat.

*

Carl took a deep breath as he entered the courtroom, smoothing a hand over his button down shirt and adjusting the fake glasses that Fiona and Rayburn insisted he wear to the hearing. He felt something inside him relax when he caught sight of his family, taking up the entire front row of seats behind the defendant's table. He glanced to his lawyer, opening his mouth to voice his question.

"Go ahead," Rayburn said, gesturing towards the Gallaghers. "You have a few minutes before the judge comes in."

Carl moved quickly to reach them, barely keeping himself from sprinting across the courtroom. He grunted in surprise when Fiona pulled him into a hug with her and Liam across the low wall dividing them, laughing when Lip and Debbie crushed in from either side.

"Alright, stop smothering me," Carl said, trying to inject some toughness into his voice. He pulled away, running a hand over his hair nervously.

Fiona eyed him worriedly. "You okay?"

Carl shrugged, looking to the side and tilting his head to acknowledge Veronica before his gaze settled on Ian and Mickey sitting together at the end of the row.

"Hey, I wanted to talk to you." Lip waved his hand in front of his face to grab his attention back. "About what you're gonna say to the judge."

Carl nodded absentmindedly, watching Ian closely. "He okay? Seems spacey."

Lip frowned. "Meds are fucking with him, I think. But he's alright. I'm worried about you right now. You need to do what the lawyer-"

"It's cool, Lip. I talked to Mickey, I know what to do."

"What?" Fiona's voice was all surprise, and a little concern. "When did this happen?"

"Called him yesterday." Carl shrugged, ignoring their disgruntled expressions as he moved down to stand in front of Ian. "Hey bro, you good?"

Ian smiled weakly, rolling his fingers into a shaky fist and sticking it out to meet Carl's for a bump. "Yeah, I'm good. You ready for this? Know what to do?"

"Yeah." Carl turned to Mickey with a determined expression that he hoped covered his doubts. "I got this."

Mickey raised a brow. "More important things, right?"

Carl nodded, spinning toward the front of the court when he heard the bailiff come in.

"Carl," Lip whispered urgently. "Whatever he told you, you need to-"

"All rise for the honorable Judge Rita Gaither."

"Carl!" Fiona and Lip continued to whisper loudly behind him, until Rayburn turned to glare at them.

Judge Gaither took her seat, sorting through the files in front of her. “You may be seated. Now presiding over case number 2014-CR-4929, The People versus Carl Francis Gallagher.”

Carl sat next to Rayburn, clasping his hands in front of him on the table and attempting to look innocent.

“Mr. Gallagher, I see that you’ve plead guilty to the charge of possession with intent to sell. The court has reviewed your presentence report, which recommends probation and community service in light of your cooperation and good behavior in juvenile detention. Does other counsel wish to be heard?”

Carl swallowed nervously as the prosecutor stood. “While we appreciate the defendant’s decision not to fight the charges, we caution the court from being too lenient with his sentence. This is a hardened street kid from a neighborhood with a high crime rate. He knew exactly what he was doing, and if he walks away from this experience too easily, we fear we’ll see him back here before long.”

“Hardened street kid,” Fiona muttered angrily. “He’s fucking thirteen years old.”

Lip spoke simultaneously, eyeing the prosecutor with disdain. “Right, 'cause sending kids to juvie never leads to recidivism.”

Gaither glared at them, shutting them both up. “Remain quiet or step outside. Now, does the defense have anything to add?”

Rayburn stood, gesturing to Carl. “Your Honor, my client knows that he has made a mistake. He got in over his head, and he is sorry for what he's done. I truly believe he has learned from the experience, and will make better choices going forward.”

Gaither eyed Carl closely. “Do you regret what you've done, Carl?”

Carl stood, glancing nervously back over his shoulder. He met Mickey’s gaze, waiting for his nod before taking a deep breath and turning back to the judge. “I did something really dumb that I shouldn't have.”

Carl paused, faltering for a moment before squaring his shoulders and continuing, sincerity evident in his tone. “I just wanted to help my sister. She works really hard to take care of us, and I thought I could make it easier for her. But all I did was cause her more trouble.” He turned to the side, meeting his sister’s eyes and watching as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Fi.”

Facing the judge again, Carl noted the way her face was softening, feeling more confident as he finished. “And I’m sorry, ma’am. I understand why this was really fucking stupid, and I won’t do it again.” He winced when he heard low chuckles and sighs of exasperation behind him. “Um, and sorry for my language.”

Gaither smiled slightly before looking down at her paperwork, writing something down. “I think I've heard enough. I sentence you to one year of probation, and 200 hours of community service.”

Carl smiled in relief as his family cheered behind him. They quieted when the judge held her hand up. “There’s normally a fine associated with this charge, but in light of the motivations behind it, I’m going to waive that.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” Fiona said loudly, smiling sheepishly when the judge gave her another stern look.

“The court will arrange for you to be assigned a probation officer and begin your community service as soon as possible.” She paused, face turning solemn. “Mr. Gallagher, I urge you to take this second chance and use it well. You won’t get another.”

Carl met her eyes directly. “I will.”

Gaither nodded curtly. “This court is in recess. You’re free to go.”

Carl spun around fast, a wide grin spreading over his face as his family resumed whooping and cheering. He saw Mickey smiling at the end of the row and made a beeline for him, clamping his arms around his middle.

“Hey, what-”

He was cut off by the hard crash of another body, Fiona bounding over to wrap both of them in a tight hug. She pulled back, giving Mickey a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, what the fuck?” Mickey looked around as if for help, trying to disentangle himself.

“I don’t know what you said to him, but thank you.” Fiona wiped a hand over the tears on her cheeks as she looked down at Carl, releasing Mickey and grabbing him up in her arms. She leaned close, whispering in his ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

Carl blinked fast as he felt tears forming behind his eyes, trying to shrug it off. “Decided I’d rather go home than stay in that shithole one more day. The food sucked.”

“No pancakes in prison?” Debbie asked from his other side, Liam resting on her hip. She smiled as Liam reached over to grab at his fake glasses in confusion.

“Carl, where’d you get those? I want glasses too!”

“You can have these.” Carl placed the glasses on Liam’s small face, laughing when they slipped right down his nose.

Debbie used her finger to push them back in place. “These definitely look better on you.” She turned back to Carl with a smile, poking her finger into one of the buttons on his shirt. “Can we go home and get you out of these weird clothes? It’s freaking me out.”

Ian walked over slowly, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair. “I don’t know, I kind of like this new look.”

Carl batted their hands away, feigning irritation. “Alright, already.”

“So we havin’ a party tonight?” Veronica interjected. She raised a brow at Lip, smiling when he nodded. “Me and Lip can swing by the Alibi and grab us some supplies.”

“Hell yeah, we got some celebratin’ to do!” Fiona exclaimed, putting an arm around Carl’s shoulders and beaming down at him. “You ready to get out of here?”

Carl grinned, looking around at his family and thinking happily of home. “More than ready.”

*

Debbie poured herself a cup of pop, glancing around surreptitiously before adding a generous pour from whatever liquor bottle was sitting next to it. She took a large gulp, grimacing at the taste.

“You gonna pour me one, too?” Fiona stood next to her, hands on her hips. “Here’s a tip-tequila and coke, not the best combo.”

Debbie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m getting that.”

Fiona shook her head, opening the fridge and reaching around the leftovers from dinner to grab a bottle of beer. “That’s it, no more after that.”

Debbie shrugged, leaning against the doorframe and peering into the living room, watching as Carl animatedly told Ian and Mickey a story about juvie. Mickey was laughing along, occasionally shooting worried glances at Ian, who looked like he was about to pass out on the arm of the couch.

Debbie looked up at Fiona when she came to rest beside her, eyes taking in the same scene. “You think he’s alright?”

Fiona sighed. “Much as he can be, Debs. We just gotta give it some time.”

“I wish I knew how to help him.”

“Hey, you do help him,” Fiona said, hooking her arm through Debbie’s as she took a long pull from her bottle. “Just by being here. Look around! We’re all home, safe and sound, nobody’s missing or in trouble. I think we’re doin’ pretty okay.”

Debbie smiled. “Yeah, we are.”

Fiona looked down at her. “You doin’ okay with everything? After the clinic, I mean? We didn’t really get a chance to talk about it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Debbie said, averting her eyes as she thought of the night before. “I’m set, I understood everything.”

“Okay.” Fiona ran a hand through Debbie’s red hair, smiling at her wistfully. “I’ll put those condoms in your drawer. But just because you have them, doesn’t mean you have to start havin' sex, okay? It’s just to be prepared.”

“Fiona, I know,” Debbie snapped, looking away from the expression of hurt confusion on Fiona’s face. Sighing, she scanned her eyes over the room, looking for a subject change. She forced a laugh when she spotted Liam by the stairs, curled up around Lip’s shoulder and fighting to keep his eyes open as he listened to Lip and Veronica talk. “I think Liam’s hit his limit.”

“Ah shit, bedtime was an hour ago.” Fiona glanced at the clock, successfully distracted. “I’ve been tryin’ to be better about that. Consistency, you know? It’s supposed to be important for kids, especially once they start school.”

“I’ll take him upstairs,” Debbie volunteered, abandoning her disgusting drink on the counter. “I’m kind of tired, anyway. And I’m gonna have to drag Carl to school tomorrow.”

Fiona snorted. “Freedom never lasts long.”

Debbie made her way over to Lip just as Veronica headed up the stairs to answer a call, tapping him on the back before reaching for Liam.

Lip glanced at her over Liam’s head. “You gonna take him up?”

“Yeah, it’s past bedtime.” Liam went to her easily, wrapping his arms around her neck and burying his face in her shoulder. “Make sure Carl doesn’t stay up all night, we have school tomorrow.”

Lip made a sour face as he looked over at the couch. “Sure, if I can drag him away from his idol.”

Debbie eyed her brother shrewdly, adjusting Liam’s weight on her hip. “You know, Mickey’s been pretty cool lately. He got us the money for Ian’s meds, and he helps with Liam sometimes, and he talked Carl into apologizing to the judge. Maybe you could give him a break.”

Lip raised a brow. “What did I do?”

“I see that look on your face.” Debbie shook her head in disapproval. “I know it must suck sometimes, not being here. But don’t be mad just ‘cause someone else is.”

Debbie walked away, leaving him staring after her dumbfounded. She climbed the stairs slowly, Liam’s weight making it more difficult than usual. “Getting so big,” she muttered, huffing out a harsh breath when she finally reached his bed and set him down. She quickly changed him into his pajamas, chuckling at the way he let her move his limbs around without a fight.

“Good night, Liam.” Debbie kissed his forehead lightly, pulling the blankets up to his shoulders and heading out of the room, closing the door most of the way. She reached into her pocket for her phone as she entered her own room, butterflies starting up in her stomach as she pulled up Derek’s number in her contacts and hit the call button.

Derek picked up just as she relaxed back into her pillows. “Debbie?”

“Hey. Just, um. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Okay, then hi.” Debbie could hear the smile in his voice, and felt a matching one taking over her face.

“Did you have fun with your family?”

“Yeah, Carl’s pretty happy.” Debbie’s smile grew as she turned over on her side, catching sight of the pictures of her siblings taped up on the wall. “It was a good day.”

“I’m glad.” Derek cleared his throat. “So, are you gonna be back at school tomorrow? I missed you today.”

Debbie hugged her pillow to her chest, contentment washing over her. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

*

Lip took a long pull from his cigarette, leaning back against the top step and gazing out at the quiet street. The only noise on the block was coming from inside his house, where Veronica had cranked up the stereo, uncaring about the late hour on a school night.

He tensed when the door opened behind him, waiting to see who was joining him. He blew out a frustrated breath when Mickey took a seat next to him.

"Not actually looking for company."

Mickey smirked, setting his can of beer on the porch and reaching into his pocket for his lighter and smokes. "Think you're in the wrong place for peace and quiet, college."

Lip shook his head, inhaling and exhaling slowly before responding. "Maybe I am."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, blowing twin columns of smoke into the chilly night air. Lip butted out his cigarette first, moving to push himself off the steps and head back inside. He paused when Mickey finally spoke.

"How's he seem to you?"

Sighing, Lip dropped heavily back against the stairs. "Why you asking me? You’re the one who's with him 24/7."

Mickey raised a brow. "Maybe I want a second opinion."

Lip ran a hand over his hair, trying to figure out what to say. He sifted through a few options before settling on something simple and succinct. "Shitty."

Mickey barked out a laugh, a cloud of smoke billowing out from his mouth. "Really? That all you got, brainiac?"

Lip smiled despite himself. "Think that about sums it up, yeah."

"Yeah." Mickey took one last pull before tossing his butt into the yard, shoulders slumping and all traces of humor disappearing. "It does."

They lapsed into silence again, watching as a car drove slowly by, heavy bass thumping from its speakers. Lip rubbed a hand over his cheek, peering at Mickey out of the corner of his eye.

“I don’t get it.”

Mickey turned to him with a quizzical look.

“Why you’re here.” Lip waved his hand toward the house. “Still.”

“It’s where Ian wants to be,” Mickey said, voice matter of fact.

“And you?” Lip raised a brow pointedly. “What are you getting out of this?”

Mickey’s expression shifted to disbelief. “The fuck does that mean?”

Lip shrugged, facing the street again.

Mickey stayed silent, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. He look a long drag, then passed it over to Lip.

“You don’t abandon family, don’t matter how rough it gets. Thought you of all people would get that.”

Lip accepted the offer, watching him skeptically. “So Ian’s your family?”

Mickey faced him head on, daring him to challenge the idea. Lip looked down at his hands, staring into the burning embers at the end of the cigarette.

“And Carl?”

Mickey straightened next to him. “What?”

“I’ve just been trying to figure it out.” Lip took another pull before handing it back to Mickey. “Why Carl went to you, why you told him to do what he did. Doesn’t add up.”

“That what’s eatin’ you? Little brother talked to the friendly neighborhood thug instead of you?”

Lip’s mouth flattened into a hard line. He turned to Mickey, ready to snap.

“You’re a fuckin’ dumbass.” Mickey chuckled, eyeing Lip with amusement as he finished off his beer. “Jealous you ain’t here dealin’ with all the shit. ”

“I’m not-”

“It ain’t a big deal.” Mickey shook his head. “I told him to play nice ‘cause I figured it’d be good for everyone to have him home. Nothin’ else to it.”

Lip sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is good.” He paused, watching with distaste when Mickey crushed his beer can and tossed it into the yard. “So what, you think you’re part of the family now? Honorary Gallagher? I don’t remember voting you in.”

Mickey raised a brow, grinning around the cigarette dangling from his lips again. “Don’t think I need your vote. Got it locked in already.”

Lip shook his head, laughing disbelievingly as a new thought occurred to him. “By that principle, I’m your family, too. You gonna start trying to help me out? Maybe come to campus, carry my books for me?”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “Can still kick your ass, Phillip, family or not.”

“Like to see you try, Michael,” Lip returned, laughing when Mickey’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“That ain’t even my name, you dumbfuck.”

Lip opened his mouth to retort, but got distracted by the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk. He swiveled his head around, smiling when he saw Kevin approaching.

“Hey, I didn’t think you were around tonight.”

Kevin squared his shoulders, fixing them both with a serious look. “Where’s Veronica?”

“Inside,” Mickey replied. His eyes scanned over Kevin, taking in the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “You gonna start a domestic, let us know so we can clear the fuck out.”

“It’s time for her to come home.” Kevin repeated it a couple times under his breath, like a mantra. Lip glanced over at Mickey, sharing a brief look of worry before they were broken apart by Kevin pushing past them up the stairs, throwing the door open and stepping into the house.

“Vee!”

“Oh shit,” Lip muttered, scrambling to his feet and following him inside, Mickey doing the same behind him.

Veronica was frozen next to Fiona in the kitchen entryway, a bottle of liquor dangling from her hand. “Kev, what the fuck are you doing here? I told you I was busy tonight.”

“It’s time to come home, Vee.” Kevin tried to keep his voice hard, but Lip could hear the edge of uncertainty underneath.

Veronica shook her head, looking down at the floor in aggravation. She stood passively as Fiona grabbed the bottle from her, moving away to stand beside Carl where he was sitting in the armchair by the window, watching avidly. Lip inched over to turn off the stereo before going to stand beside his sister, watching as Mickey moved to hover over Ian where he was passed out on the couch.

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are the girls?"

“I took them to Carol’s for the night.” Kevin stepped closer to her, reaching for her hand and wincing when Veronica pulled it from his grasp. “And everyone else is gone, too. I wanted it to be just us, so we could talk.”

“So what, you asked your whore to take the night off so we could talk some more about what a shit mom I am?” Veronica’s voice was thick with tears, a couple stray drops falling down her cheeks. Lip averted his eyes, feeling like an intruder.

“No, Vee. It’s not like that, I told you.” Kevin reached out again, hand settling on her shoulder as his face started to crumple. “I know I’ve been fucking up, baby. But I want you to come home, so we can figure it out together.”

Veronica watched him silently, mixed emotions passing over her face before she finally sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

The corners of Kevin’s mouth lifted in a cautious smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Veronica said shakily.

Kevin went for her, pulling her up into his arms and burying his head in her neck, letting out a small sob when she wrapped her arms around him in return.

Lip looked away to see Fiona hastily wiping tears from her cheeks. He smiled at her affectionately, nudging her shoulder with his. “Dinner, dancing and a show. Really did it up right for Carl’s big day.”

Fiona snorted, shoving at his shoulder and speaking in a low voice to avoid disturbing the reunited couple. “Don’t be a dick. I’m gonna run up and pack Vee’s shit. Help me get this mess cleaned up, wouldya? Carl, you got school in the morning, go to bed.”

“But-”

“Don’t wanna hear it, it’s late already.” Fiona smiled sweetly, scrubbing a hand over Carl’s hair. “And you’re on probation now, gotta live right.”

Lip smirked, patting Carl’s shoulder as he scowled and headed for the stairs. “Night, bud.” Lip turned to Mickey, meeting his eyes before glancing at Ian. “You good to get him upstairs?”

Mickey snorted, waving him off. “Won’t be the first time I’ve hauled his narrow ass around.”

“You stayin’ tonight?” Fiona asked, looking over her shoulder as she moved toward the stairs.

Lip nodded. “I’ll head back to school in the morning, don’t have class ‘til afternoon tomorrow.” He headed for the kitchen, stepping around Kevin and Veronica where they were still locked in their embrace. Crouching down in front of the cabinet under the sink, he grabbed a trash bag, then paused.

Reaching for his phone, he pulled up his messages again, looking over the unanswered texts from Amanda. Sighing, he typed out a quick message.

_Be back tomorrow_

He started to put his phone away, then thought better of it.

_Sorry I’m such a dick_

Satisfied that he’d done what he could for now, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and started cleaning up the mess.

*

"Hey sleepyhead, come on."

Ian scrunched his face up in annoyance, batting weakly at the hands shaking his shoulders. "Sleepin' Mick."

Mickey chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that. Thought you might wanna do it in a bed, though."

Ian blinked one eye open, shooting him a glare.

"I let you sleep like this, you're gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow." Mickey raised a challenging brow. "I can throw you over my shoulder if you want, but you know what happened last time."

Ian rubbed at the back of his head, remembering the bruise where Mickey had knocked him hard into the banister at the bottom of the stairs. Groaning, he pushed off the couch and followed Mickey up to his old room.

Ian sighed in relief when he caught sight of his bed, glancing over to see Liam clutching his toy truck to his chest and Carl's foot dangling off the top bunk, both of them already passed out. His eyes traveled up to Carl’s face, smiling slightly at the familiar sight of him drooling on his pillow.

“Thanks, Mickey.”

Mickey looked up from the dresser, confused. “What for?”

“I know Carl only did that today because you told him to.”

Mickey shrugged and looked away from him, blushing slightly as he dug through the drawer full of their t-shirts, looking for something to sleep in. Ian’s smile deepened at his sudden shyness, knowing he’d never been good at accepting gratitude. He reached down to strip out of his jeans, climbing under the covers with a heavy sigh and sliding over to rest against the wall, waiting as Mickey followed suit. He settled against Ian's side, wrapping an arm across his torso.

"Good?"

"Yeah." Ian closed his eyes, already feeling sleep take him over again. He started to sink into it, but jerked back to alertness when Mickey began squirming around next to him.

"Alright?" Ian asked sleepily.

Mickey nodded against his shoulder, finally settling on his side and running his hand up Ian's torso to rest against his collarbone. "You?"

Ian nearly laughed, the corners of his mouth pulling up despite his exhaustion. "Think we've already established that."

Mickey huffed, propping himself up on his elbow. "I just mean-how you doin' in there? Been quiet today."

Ian's eyes darkened, his gaze sliding away to focus on the pillow. "I don't know." He bit his lip, trying to find the right balance between truth and lie. "Not great."

"You happy about the new job?"

"Guess it's a good thing, right? New routine." Ian shook his head, chuckling at himself. He sobered quickly, answering more honestly. "Don't really feel anything about it."

Mickey stroked a hand over his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "'Cause of the side effect shit? Like that numbness thing?"

Ian shrugged lightly, keeping his face neutral. "Guess so."

Mickey watched him closely. "What's it feel like?"

"Nothing." Ian closed his eyes again, turning on his side to face the wall and avoid seeing Mickey's reaction to his words. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed, almost a whisper. "Feels like nothing."

Mickey pressed his hand more firmly over Ian's heart, nuzzling closer against his back and speaking lowly into his ear. "But this. You can still feel this. Right?"

Ian heard the fear in his voice, and looked back over his shoulder to meet his gaze. He took in the anxiety Mickey couldn't hide, the exhaustion etched into the familiar features of his face, and he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.

"Yeah, Mick." Ian brought his hand up to cover Mickey's, clasping their fingers together as he fixed his eyes on the wall again. "I can feel it."


	10. Tired And Gone

Ian set the plastic tub down on the vinyl seat of the booth and began clearing the table, in no real hurry. The early birds were all about gone and the later breakfast crowd was just starting to trickle in, only a handful of the tables occupied. He gathered the silverware and tossed it into the bottom of the bin, then stacked the plates, cups, and bowls. He was pulling his towel out to clean the tabletop when Sean came by, clapping him on the back.

“Hey, Ian. So how you doing?”

”Um, alright I guess," Ian said, leaning down to wipe the seats.

“You still liking it?" Sean asked, hands on his hips as he proudly surveyed the dining room. "How long you been here now, three weeks, four weeks?”

Ian nodded feebly, tallying the endless hours and days in his head. “Almost three weeks, yeah.”

“You know, I may need an extra body in the kitchen soon. Would just be some days that you could help Tony out, not every day or anything. I'd still need you to bus tables, but it’s something for you to keep in mind if you want to move up or try something different.”

“Move up?” Ian glanced at Sean, confused as he scooted back on the bench, his fingers failing him as he tried to straighten the packets of sugar and sweetener. Finally giving up, he tapped the salt and pepper shakers back into a straight line.

“Yeah, lots of my guys in the kitchen started out doing this." Sean gestured to the table that Ian was detailing. "It pays a little bit more, not much, but a little and it would get you out of dish duty for a few days a week. That something you think you’d be interested in?”

Ian picked up the plastic bin, the dishes rattling when he shrugged. “Sure. I guess.”

“Okay, good.” Sean grinned enthusiastically. “I’ll let you know first before I post a sign in the window.”

Ian forced a smile, letting his face fall when Sean turned and headed back toward his office. He sighed and shuffled back to the kitchen, plunking the bin down next to the dishwasher. He loaded the dirty dishes into the rack, sliding it through the machine and pressing the button before turning to go back into the dining room to repeat the process. It was the same routine, over and over and over.

“Hey.” Frank’s voice snapped Ian out of his daze. “Where’s your sister?” he asked as he pushed himself up onto a stool at the counter, waving Ian over to him.

“I don’t know.” Ian began collecting used coffee mugs and plates from the seats down the counter from Frank. “Home? Think she's off today."

Frank pulled a saucer of creamers toward himself, picking one up and reading the label. "I need to get into the house for a shower and tune-up." He paused, peeling the paper lid off of the plastic cup and knocking it back. "I can't go there when she's home. She guards that place like a rabid rottweiler."

“Just help yourself,” Ian said sarcastically, nodding to the saucer.

“The diner on 31st has French vanilla and hazelnut. I thought this place was a touch more upscale,” Frank complained, picking through the bowl.

Ian slid the dish of creamers away from Frank and tucked it away on the shelf under the counter. “Maybe you should go over there then.”

Frank scoffed, glancing up and taking Ian in. “You look like shit. I see you're still trying to medicate your personality away. I think it’s working.”

Ian opened his mouth, a sharp reply ready on his tongue when Jackie walked out, interrupting them.

“Hey, Ian,” Jackie sung sweetly, carrying a tray filled with empty syrup pitchers and lids that Ian had unloaded from the dishwasher earlier that morning. “Could you do me a favor and start filling these? I don’t got any tables right now and I wanna take a break to call my little girl before she has to go to school. She has her first test today and I just wanna give her a little pep talk.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ian took the tray, carefully setting it down on the counter in front of him.

“Thanks, sweetie.” Jackie winked and tugged on Ian’s sleeve. He managed a small smile before turning to grab a gallon bottle of syrup from the shelf under the pick-up window.

Frank watched as Jackie walked away, switching his head back and forth with the movement of her hips. “Haven’t seen an ass that great since your mother.”

Ian grimaced and unscrewed the lid from the bottle, still frustrated with the unsteadiness lingering in his hands as he poured the syrup into one of the pitchers.

“Saw her the other day down under the bridge," Frank said, turning back and licking his lips at the sight of the flowing syrup.

“Jackie?”

“No, your mother.” Frank picked up a coffee cup that was upside down on a saucer and held it out, gesturing for Ian to fill it up.

Ian shook his head and moved the bottle over to fill another pitcher. “I’m not giving you free coffee, Frank.”

Frank nodded to the syrup, furrowing his brows. “Who said anything about coffee? I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

Ian's face contorted in disgust as he motioned to the door. “Just leave already.”

“C’mon,” Frank groaned, looking around. “There’s hardly anyone here and breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Ian shook his head but gave in, filling the cup halfway. “Don’t be fucking stingy,” Frank snapped, following the bottle with his cup as Ian pulled away. Ian sighed, filling it to the brim. Frank took a slow sip, making a show of savoring the thick liquid and smacking his lips. “It would be better warm.”

“Forget it,“ Ian said, filling up the remaining pitchers. “You really see Monica?”

“Mmhmm.” Frank swallowed another mouthful of syrup and licked the corners of his mouth. “She’s living off the grid with not a care in the world, looked full of life.” Frank eyed Ian again with distaste. “She's probably not on the lithium train like you."

“You said she’s living under a bridge,” Ian reminded him, trying his best not to sound too concerned even though the thought was eating at him.

“Nah, she’s not living down there, just got a nice little operation going on. All the guys kept talking about waiting for their hook-up to show and lo and behold, it’s _my_ Monnie. She's got the right idea, I’ll give her that. Not many people still do deliveries, personalized narcotics service is practically a forgotten art form.”

Ian shook his head and narrowed his eyes, trying to comprehend Frank's cryptic story. “What do you mean, _operation_?”

“Those pills make you fucking stupid, too?" Frank sneered and downed the rest of his syrup, puckering his lips as he swallowed. "The same kind of operation that your brother-in-law has going on the next block over. You know, the mentally challenged one? I was surprised to see him back to moving ice, not that I'm complaining. Competition is what drives the prices down, you know?"

Ian kept his eyes down, his forehead wrinkling. "I didn't know Iggy was actually selling again," he mumbled, fumbling with screwing a lid on one of the pitchers and wiping some stray drips away.

"Yep, the good shit, too. The Milkoviches always had a lockdown on the best stuff around. Monnie’s is good, really good, but not _that_ good." Frank stood and drummed his fingers on the counter. "Hey, you uh, you think you could get me a family discount? Your mom shut me down."

Ian finished capping the pitchers, not paying attention and lost in thought.

“Hey!” Frank snapped his fingers in front of Ian’s face. “You gonna hook your old man up or what?”

Ian blinked slowly but then shoved Frank’s hand away. “Get the fuck outta here, Frank.”

“You’re all good for nothing.” Frank shot Ian a disgusted look as he walked to the door, holding it open for a young woman that was entering.

“Thank you.” She smiled and flipped her golden hair back off her shoulder.

“Oh no, _thank you_.” Frank waved his arm and bowed as she passed, perking up and eyeing her from head to toe.

Ian rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to filling the last pitcher with syrup.

"Excuse me."

Ian glanced up to find the young woman hovering in front of the counter and smiling warmly.

"Which tables are Fiona's today?" she asked, pointing to the dining room.

Ian looked at her more closely, his eyes drawn to the glint from the watch hanging from her wrist. "None, she’s off today,” he said, turning around to look through the window into the kitchen. "But if you want something, I'll get Jackie."

Not receiving an answer, Ian turned back around just in time to see the woman walking out the door.

*

Fiona clomped down the stairs, huffing in exasperation as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” she asked, flustered, as she pulled a pair of jeans out of the dryer and hopped into them, tucking her phone into the back pocket.

Debbie looked back from where she was refilling Liam’s cereal bowl at the table. “It’s your first day off in forever, was letting you sleep in for once.”

“Day off or not, I got shit to do. Liam needs dressed and put on the bus, I need to pack your lunches, I have a ton of laundry to do.”

Debbie stepped away from the table, revealing Liam already dressed and grinning from ear to ear. “Debbie helped me pick it out,” he said proudly as he ran his hands down the front of his button up shirt.

"Already packed the lunches, too." Debbie nodded to the brown paper bags lined up on the counter, Liam’s scribbled with his name and a smiley face with the tongue hanging out.

Fiona planted her hands on her hips, a smile pulling at her mouth. “Thanks, Debs,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Debbie’s shoulder.

“Sure. You don’t gotta do everything all the time, Fiona.” Debbie stepped around her, folding the cereal box closed and setting it on top of the refrigerator. “Take a day off on your day off."

“Yeah,” Carl chimed in. “I took the trash out and brought those winter clothes down from the attic you wanted.”

Fiona looked from Carl to Debbie, her expression morphing from grateful to suspicious. “What do you two want?”

“Nothing,” Carl insisted, pushing past Fiona to rinse his bowl in the sink. “Debs told me to do it, but don’t get used to it.”

Fiona snorted. She poured herself a cup of coffee, blowing into the mug before taking a sip. “Ian already at work?”

“Yeah, he left about an hour ago and Mickey went back to sleep.” Carl grabbed one of the lunches on his way to the living room.

Fiona raised a brow, turning to watch Carl load a few books and the brown bag into his backpack. “Mickey still gets up with him on his early days?”

“Yes,” Carl groaned. “They think I’m not awake, but I am. It takes Mickey ten tries to wake him up and then they lay in bed and whisper back and forth and _then_ it’s a racket with all the pill bottles until Ian finally gets dressed and leaves.”

“That’s kinda sweet, though.” Debbie said, scraping the last of the cereal from the bottom of her bowl.

“It’s kinda fucking annoying.”

Fiona chuckled, setting her coffee down and pulling her phone out when she heard the email notification chime. Opening the message, her jaw dropped. “Son of a bitch.”

Carl pulled his book bag onto his shoulders, his eyebrows raising as he flanked her side to peek at her phone. “What?”

“This is bullshit,” Fiona muttered under her breath as she frantically scrolled through the message. “I got an email sayin’ that if I don’t pay the water bill today by 5, they’re shuttin’ it off.”

“Just like that? No notice?” Debbie asked incredulously, hopping down from her chair and coming around the counter.

“It says they’ve been sendin’ notices, but I haven’t responded.”

Debbie came to stand at Fiona’s other side, watching Fiona’s fingers work through the different menus on her phone. “When’s the last you paid it?”

Fiona glanced up, pondering the question and wincing at the memory. “When I sent you down to pay it, I think.”

Debbie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fiona, that was the middle of summer.”

“I guess it just slipped my mind.” Fiona shrugged, trying to remain calm as she tapped on the touchscreen, searching for any emails she might have missed. Her stomach twisted when she saw multiple unopened messages from Chicago City Services in her spam folder. “Fuck. They were sendin’ them but I wasn’t gettin’ them. Must’ve got the final one today ‘cause it’s from a different address.”

“How much is it?” Carl asked, still peering over her shoulder.

Fiona went back to the email, reading it out loud. “$252.33 must be remitted by 5:00 pm on Thursday, October 15th, or water service will be terminated at the beginning of the next business day. If payment is made after 5:00 pm, customer will be responsible to pay balance in full plus any additional fees, including a service charge and deposit before service is restored.”

“Holy shit,” Carl blurted and grabbed the phone, reading it for himself. "They really know how to stick it to you."

“I know.” Fiona took the phone back, dread setting in as she did the math in her head. “It’s three months worth plus late fees already, if we have to pay all the extras we're screwed.”

Carl turned to open the freezer. “We can just pull money from the squirrel fund.”

“Can’t.” Fiona shook her head, rubbing at her forehead and hoping for an epiphany. “Number one, it’s not hidden there anymore and number two, it’s still pretty low from havin’ to pay G-Dogg back when you got picked up. Can't be dippin' in when it's only October.”

“Sorry,” Carl murmured, letting his hand fall from the handle of the freezer. “Guess that’s my fault.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Fiona assured, tugging on Carl’s backpack to get his attention. “Didn’t mean anything by it, it's just how it is.”

Carl nodded, resorting to pacing in a small circle as he brainstormed.

“Could ask Mickey,” Debbie said and leaned against the counter, twirling a strand of her hair. “Even if he doesn’t have the money, he might have an idea.”

“No.” Fiona shook her head, not even considering the suggestion. “Mickey’s been helpin’ out, _a lot_. We’re not even tellin’ him or Ian anything about this mess.”

Carl scoffed. ”They’re gonna find out tomorrow when there’s no water.”

“You can use this.”

They all looked to Liam, standing on the landing of the kitchen stairs and clutching his piggy bank in his arms. Fiona and Debbie shared a look before Fiona shook her head and smiled, walking over to rub his head. “No, buddy, that’s your money.”

“But we need water so I can take a bath and brush my teeth.” Liam held out the bank, urging Fiona to take it. “You say that’s important and I wanna help.”

Fiona sighed, aware of the only way to appease him. “Tell you what,” she said, sliding it from his arms. “I’ll keep it down here today and if we need any, I’ll take some out.”

Liam beamed as Fiona leaned down to kiss his cheek. “And that reminds me, head upstairs and brush your teeth before school, okay?”

“Okay,” Liam replied happily, climbing back up the steps.

Once Liam was out of earshot, Debbie leaned in and lowered her voice. “What are you gonna tell him tomorrow when he can’t take a bath or brush his teeth?”

“That I’m givin’ him the day off,” Fiona said optimistically, pushing Debbie and Carl toward the front door. “Just go to school and don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”

“Maybe we should stay home and help you figure it out,” Carl offered, dragging his feet.

“Nope, school.” Fiona opened the door, shoving them onto the porch.

Debbie looked back, hesitating halfway down the stairs. “Text me if you need help or want me to get Liam after school.”

Fiona nodded, smiling as she closed the front door, only to instantly frown and lean against it as she blew hair out of her face. She bit her thumb nail on her way back to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and pulling up her favorites on her phone. She stared at the first number for a moment before reluctantly pressing it and waiting for it to connect.

“What’s up?” Lip answered after the second ring.

“Nothin’,” Fiona lied, immediately having second thoughts about dragging him into the predicament. “What’re you doin’?"

“Walking across campus to my first class.” Fiona heard him take a hit from a cigarette, leaving a pause during which she failed to speak. "I’m late so whatever it is, you might wanna just tell me now.”

Fiona bit her lip, eyes going to the floor out of habit to avoid judgment. “I forgot to pay the water bill.”

“So go pay it, they usually give you almost three months before they crank the valve. How much is it? Fifty, sixty bucks?”

“252.33,” Fiona said sheepishly, closing her eyes and waiting for a reaction. “They’re shutting it off tomorrow if I don’t pay by 5 today.”

“What? Why haven’t you been paying it?”

“I just kinda forgot about it. During the summer I signed up for paperless billing to get five dollars off a month, but all the emails were going to my spam folder. I guess it was out of sight, out of mind."

Lip scoffed on the other end of the line, his voice becoming breathy like he was jogging. “Lotta good that five dollars did you.”

“I know, I fucked up,” Fiona groaned. “Nevermind, it’s my fault. I’ll figure it out.”

“No, wait,” Lip said, voices getting louder around him and echoing in the background. “How much is it again?”

“Little over two-fifty.”

Lip sighed heavily and lowered his voice. “I have classes this morning, but I can probably help before my afternoon lab. I’ll call you and talk ideas then.”

“You have ideas?” Fiona asked, perking up at the thought of a prospect.

Lip laughed. “I don’t have one yet, but I will. Listen, I gotta go.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.” Fiona smiled, running her finger over some crumbs on the counter. “Lip?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

*

Veronica hummed and stretched, reveling in the comfort of her own bed. Hearing nothing but silence, she checked her phone and smiled, sliding it back onto the nightstand as she nuzzled her face into her pillow. She was fully planning on sneaking in any extra minutes of sleep she could when she was jolted by two quick blows to the small of her back.

Turning over, she saw not only Gemma, but also Amy, lying horizontally on the bed between her and Kevin. Gemma was the culprit, kicking Veronica again as her mouth turned up in a sleepy smile, two bottom teeth standing out against pink gums.

“What are you smiling about?” Veronica asked accusingly, smoothing her hand over the half-awake infant’s head. “You think you got your daddy wrapped around your finger? Smuggling you in here in the middle of the night?” She traced a finger over Gemma’s eyebrows and down the bridge of her nose, watching her eyelids flutter closed as she whispered, “I think you’re right.”

“Hey.” Kevin squinted, sitting up a bit and yawning. He rubbed at his eyes and looked down, nodding to Gemma. “She wake you up?”

“No, just kept me from falling back to sleep,” Veronica said, raising a brow and giving Kevin a pointed look. “I thought you weren't bringing them over here at night anymore.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “I know, Vee, but it’s hard when they’re both fussy. I think they’re getting sick.”

Veronica continued to trace Gemma’s face, not looking up. "I didn’t hear them.”

“Yeah, because I controlled the situation. I knew if they woke you up, I’d just have one more cranky baby on my hands.”

Veronica glowered at him and rolled onto her back, crossing her arms. “Sorry if I was tired after having them by myself for twelve hours yesterday. I'm sorry I'm not the mom you are.”

“I don’t wanna do this." Kevin shook his head in defeat and exhaled loudly. "You’re right, I shouldn’t bring them over here but it’s hard, they're used to being with me all the time and I was letting them sleep in here a lot when you were gone because it was easier and-”

“And what?” Veronica widened her eyes, daring Kevin to finish.

“And I was lonely," Kevin added quietly.

Veronica’s scowl loosened as she rubbed at her temples and sighed. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry, yesterday was just bad, but I’m trying.”

“So am I,” Kevin added, giving her a long look before scrubbing his face into his hands and groaning. "We gotta stop going in circles. It's been better since you came home, but it's still not working."

Kevin turned on his side, stretching his arm over the twins to grasp Veronica’s hand, cradling it in his own. “You know this is all I ever wanted. Moving around from foster home to foster home, I was always around other kids who wanted to be baseball players or firefighters or some other bullshit thing that would never happen, but this is all little Kev wanted.” Kevin nodded to Veronica and the girls between them.

“To sleep in your foster parent’s bed?” Veronica asked dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

“No," Kevin huffed, retracting his hand and falling back onto his pillow. "To have a family of my own. A dad, a mom, some kids, and there was usually a dog."

"We're not getting a fucking dog," Veronica retorted, but slumped her shoulders, averting her eyes from Kevin's dejected expression. "Look, baby, I wanted it too, but I don't think we're shaping up to be the family little Kev dreamed about, and I’m _definitely_ not the mom you think I should be. I'm just not good at it like you are."

"But you're good at everything, if you just tried harder-"

"Don't even try." Veronica held her hand up, her frustrations mounting. "You know it's true. Whenever I'm with them you're always hovering over me and saying how I’m doing it wrong or how I should hold them like this or how I should feed them veggies before fruit. I’m terrible at it."

Kevin shook his head. “None of that stuff has anything to do with you.”

Veronica snorted, tucking her hands under her legs. “Thanks.”

"Shit." Kevin dropped his head and groaned. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant I don't tell you that stuff 'cause you're a bad mom. I just wanna help so you don’t get frustrated and wanna quit. When you pull away from them I feel like I have to do double duty and be the dad and the mom so that they’ll feel loved."

Veronica’s gaze fell as both girls stirred, Amy rolling onto her side and throwing a leg over Gemma's belly before they settled happily against each other.

“It’s not that I don’t love them," Veronica admitted, reaching over to rub the arch of Gemma's foot with her thumb. “I do and I want them to know that, but I'm just not cut out for this day in, day out.”

Veronica continued to trace circles on Gemma's soles while Kevin ran a fingertip around one of Amy's ears. He glanced up, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over them. "So what are we gonna do about it? About them and about us?"

“Well," Veronica inhaled deeply, looking up to meet his eyes. "I've been thinking and I wanna work full time again.”

“How we gonna do that, babe?" Kevin asked skeptically. "If you get a job and I'm back at the Alibi, we’ll pay out the ass for a stranger to watch them at a sitter’s or daycare. I'd rather make do with less money like we have been.”

“Good," Veronica said softly, the corner of her mouth twitching up. "We agree on something then."

Kevin raised his brows, sitting up against the headboard. “We do?”

"Yeah." Veronica shook her head and slid her hand away from Gemma's feet, sighing. “I did the books for the quarter, and it turns out I've been turning a little bit more profit at the Alibi while you've been home with the girls.”

“How'd you do that?”

“It's not that complicated, Kev. I raised the beer and well drink prices by fifty cents and all the top shelf liquor by a dollar. I'm also not over pouring drinks, which judging from all the complaints when I'm working, was one of your biggest money drains."

Kevin scratched at his head, baffled. "That explains why everyone’s so happy to see me all the time. I thought those fuckers missed me."

"It's okay, you're an easy mark," Veronica consoled and patted his hand. "I've been thinking about renting the apartment, too."

"The rub 'n tug?"

"Former rub 'n tug," Veronica corrected, wagging a finger. "We're gonna clean it out, scrub all the jizz off the walls and slap a couple coats of paint on it. We just need to fix the radiator and we can join the ranks of the South Side slum lords."

Kevin nodded slowly. "I can fix the radiator, just never got around to it last winter."

Veronica smiled knowingly. "I was kinda counting on it."

Kevin leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. "So what am I gonna do then?"

"What you do best." Veronica's eyes fell to the expanse of babies between them.

"You mean you'll work and I'll stay home with the girls?" Kevin asked apprehensively and followed her gaze. "Like all the time?"

"The majority of the time. We can still switch on and off if you need a break but for the most part, yeah." Veronica tilted her head, softening her voice. "You think little Kev would've been down with that?"

A slow smile spread across Kevin's face, his eyes lighting up. "Yeah, I think I'd, I mean, I think he'd be down with that. I think he'd love it."

“I think it could be good for us,” Veronica said, pushing herself out of the bed. “You can be with the girls like you like, I can get some space like I like. Maybe we can even get some time together again.”

“Like date nights?” Kevin asked, swinging his legs out of the bed and standing.

“Yep.” Veronica opened the closet, flipping through some hangers. “I never thought we’d be scheduling fucking either but we gotta do what we gotta do.”

“Who would watch them, though?”

“For a few hours?” Veronica scoffed and dismissed him with her hand. “Anyone. Debbie could watch them, Fiona would help when she can.”

“Yeah,” Kevin mused, walking over to stand behind Veronica and circle his arms around her waist. “Your mom might even help. Maybe we could get Little D sometimes, too. Have the kids spend more time together.”

Veronica smiled, resting back against Kevin’s chest. “That'd be nice.”

“I bet you Svetlana would babysit. The girls love her.”

Veronica shoved Kevin’s hands away and whipped around, glaring at him. “I know you didn’t just bring up that hooker’s name when we’re talking about our future.”

“Come on, Vee. She’s really good with them and she’s nice.”

“No.” Veronica crossed her arms and fought the pout that was pulling at her mouth.

“Why do you hate her so much? You jealous?” Kevin asked, wrapping his arms back around her and dropping his mouth to kiss her neck. “You know it’s not like that at all. You’re the only one for me, Vee.”

“Stop, I gotta take a shower.” Veronica pushed at his arms, but succumbed when he slid his hands down further and sucked her earlobe between his teeth. “Okay, don’t stop.”

Kevin chuckled and whispered in her ear. “We could get a shower together.”

“What about the girls?”

Kevin slid away, lining the edge of the bed with pillows. “There.” He clapped his hands together, looking satisfied with himself.

“Nice job,” Veronica said as she sauntered to the bathroom, laughing and picking up her pace when Kevin chased her, trying to smack her ass.

*

The bell on the door jingled behind him as Mickey’s eyes swept the entire dining room of Patsy’s. All he found was a few tables that were occupied with diners and Jackie talking to a couple seated in a booth. Walking in a little further, he decided on a stool at the counter, the one on the end right by the kitchen door.

“Hey, Mickey.” Jackie came around the corner and rested her elbows on the counter in front of him as he took a seat. “Can I get you something or you just waiting for dollface?”

"Dollface?" Mickey repeated, his upper lip curling in aversion to the pet name.

"C'mon," Jackie teased, smiling playfully as she stood and tightened her ponytail. "Like you never noticed before that he's beautiful."

"Whatever." Mickey nervously shifted in his seat, pulling at his collar as a warm flush climbed up his neck. "Where is he?"

“I think he’s loading the dishwasher.” She nodded to all the dirty place settings at the counter that needed cleared. “Still cleaning up after lunch.”

“Alright.” He slid his jacket off, peering around Jackie to point to the coffee station. “How old is that shit?”

“I dunno.” Jackie shrugged. “Half hour maybe.”

Unconvinced, Mickey eyed it for a moment before flipping over the cup in front of him and sliding it toward her. “I’ll take my chances.”

Jackie poured the coffee while Mickey unloaded a pharmacy bag, lining up several pill bottles on the edge of his placemat. He pulled out a medication organizer with fourteen square shaped compartments, one for both morning and evening of every day of the week.

“You rob a drug store?” Jackie asked, nodding down to everything on display.

Mickey bit the edge of the plastic wrap on the organizer, tearing a hole in the packaging with his teeth. “Got this for Ian, it’s gonna make it easier for him to remember all this shit.” He twisted the caps off of two vitamin bottles, pausing to search his pockets for a knife before slicing the seals open.

Jackie eyed the garish organizer, clear but with different colored lids for each day. “That’s one hell of an ugly reminder.”

"Who fuckin’ asked ya?" Mickey retorted, tapping some of the vitamins into his hand and ignoring her obnoxious smile as she walked back out to the dining room. He was ready to turn around and inform her it was the only weekly one they had when Ian pushed the swinging door open, trudging out of the kitchen with his bin under an arm.

“Hey.” Ian sighed, pushing his hair back off his forehead. "Didn't know you were here."

“Hey,” Mickey returned softly, making sure not to let his gaze linger on Ian too long, but long enough to assess the tired creases and gray shadows under his eyes. “Just got here.”

Ian smiled weakly and began clearing the dishes at the seat next to Mickey, his expression darkening when his eyes fell to Mickey’s placemat.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Bought this for ya,” Mickey said, going back to dropping one vitamin in each little box while his little finger pointed to one of the bottles. “Also got those B vitamins I was readin' about online and this.” Mickey picked up a different bottle, reading the label. “Fish oil with Omega-3. Pharmacist suggested addin' it, and he said you can take all this shit with your pills, no interactions to fuck you up or anything.” Mickey poured some of the fish oil capsules into his hand and began to divvy them up.

“I don’t need any of that,” Ian immediately responded, glaring at the organizer and supplement bottles with disdain. Looking up, he scanned the dining room before nodding back down. “And why would you bring all that shit here anyway? Might as well make me wear a fucking sign.”

Mickey scoffed and tossed a capsule into the last compartment, pouring the excess back into the bottle. “Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks? They could be mine for all they know.”

“Except they’re not,” Ian muttered and stepped away, banging his bin down on the counter. He threw some silverware in, letting it clang together as he shoved the bin over to the next seat.

"You pissed or somethin'?" Mickey furrowed his brow, watching Ian dump more things into the bin. "You don't gotta take ‘em, it's just they might help. With your moods and with feelin’ tired and-"

Mickey fell silent when Ian braced his hands on the counter, looking to Mickey pleadingly. ”Please, just put it all away.”

“Okay, fine.” Mickey held his palms up in a placating gesture and obliged, capping all the bottles before glancing back up as Ian resumed clearing plates. “But I got you a partial refill on your meds, too. Figured why buy the whole month if they might get changed next week, right?" Mickey picked up the organizer and tucked it back into the bag. "I'll put 'em in here later."

“How much was all of that?”

“Not that much,” Mickey shrugged, avoiding Ian's eyes as he turned his attention to his coffee. “I got it.”

Ian frowned and stalked over, snatching the bag and fishing around for a receipt. Finding it, he pulled it out, his eyes quickly dropping to the bottom and widening. “Fuck, Mickey.”

Mickey stood to lean over the counter and plucked it out of Ian’s hands, tucking it into his pocket. “Said I got it.”

“Sure you do.” Ian glared at him and shook his head. “Tell Iggy I said thanks."

“Why you sayin’ that?”

Ian turned and made his way back to the other end of the counter, slamming around the last of the dirty dishes. "Heard he’s back in business. Thought you said you were just moving, not selling?”

Mickey smacked his lips, licking the corner of his mouth. “Never said it was only movin', and _I’m_ not sellin’.”

“No, but you’re involved.”

Mickey shrugged, oblivious to Ian's reasoning. “What do you care? Never cared before when we were in it.”

Ian glanced around before closing the distance between them and lowering his voice. “Because you told me you wanted out of that fucking shit, said meth was your dad's deal and fuck him, look where he is now."

Mickey shook his head, eyes falling to the placemat at the mention of his father. "Iggy said the opportunity was there, that's all it was. We needed the money."

"Yeah, I know." Ian grabbed his bin, stopping right before he stomped back to the kitchen. "Because of me."

Mickey groaned under his breath and took a drink of his coffee, setting the cup back down and double checking his surroundings to make sure no one had been listening. He braced himself when Ian reappeared, visibly taking a deep breath before approaching him. “Here,” Ian mumbled, sliding a dessert plate in front of Mickey that was plastic-wrapped with a crumbling slice of apple pie in the center.

“What’s that?” Mickey asked, picking it up and inspecting it closely. “You scrape this off someone’s plate?”

“Fuck you.” Ian snorted and reached under the counter to grab a roll of silverware, dropping it next to Mickey’s hand. “It was the last piece and it fell apart, Jackie was gonna throw it away. I know you like it so I saved it for you.”

“Thanks.” Mickey smiled, feeling the tension between them melt away when Ian returned the expression.

“Sure.” Ian held Mickey’s gaze for a moment before turning to grab the coffee pot to fill his cup. “Listen, I was thinking, let’s go do something today.”

Mickey unwrapped the plate and rolled the plastic wrap into a ball. “When?”

“When I’m done. I’ll go home and change and then let’s go.”

Mickey shook his head, the idea sounding pointless. “Where?”

Ian rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel to wipe down the counter. “I don’t care, _anywhere_.”

“You usually nap after workin’ the early morning shift,” Mickey pointed out, sliding a bite of the pie from his fork. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I nap more than a toddler,” Ian replied bitterly, scrubbing harder at the counter. “I’m sick of it, I’m sick of being tired.” He paused, his eyes traveling up to Mickey’s. “Don’t you want to do something other than watch me fucking sleep?”

Mickey mentally calculated how many hours Ian had slept the night before with how many he worked and how much sleep he’d need before he’d have to work the next day. Sighing, he gave up, too lost in the hopeful anticipation in Ian’s eyes.

“Alright,” he said, watching Ian’s face brighten in the first genuine smile Mickey had seen in days. Hiding his reluctance, he smiled and looked away, taking another bite of the pie.

*

Fiona rotated the laundry, pulling all the warm towels from the dryer before stuffing it to the brim with wet clothes. She turned the dial and immediately dumped a basket of dirty clothes into the washer, racing against the deadline to finish it all.

“Five more to go,” she murmured to herself as she counted the piles of clothes and linens she had gathered from all the rooms upstairs. She carried the basket of towels to the table, setting it down and pulling one out to fold when she heard the front door.

"Fi!"

Fiona walked toward the sound of Lip’s bellowing voice, finding him standing on the porch grinning with a cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Thought you were calling me to talk ideas," she said uncertainly, throwing the towel over her shoulder.

"I come bearing the answer to all your problems, don't wanna leave it unattended," he said, flicking the cigarette into the yard and holding the door open as he smiled and pointed outside. “Stand watch while I go take a piss.”

Fiona wrinkled her forehead and peeked around the doorframe to see a red and white moped parked on the sidewalk, just inside the gate. "A scooter? What the fuck are we supposed to do with that?"

“I’ll be back,” Lip called over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.

Fiona closed the door, pulling the towel from her shoulder and folding it, clutching it to her chest as she peered out the window.

“What the fuck are these?” Fiona turned to see Lip smirking and waving a pink, plastic case of birth control pills as he came down the stairs. “Didn’t know you were back on the market.”

“I wish they were mine,” she said regretfully, snatching them from his hand and tucking them into her back pocket.

“Wha-” Lip stopped mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open as the answer dawned on him. “They’re Debbie’s?!”

“Yep.” Fiona raised her brows and leaned against the back of the couch. “Asked me to take her a few weeks ago.”

“She’s fourteen! When were you gonna tell me?”

Fiona smirked at his exaggerated reaction. “I know she’s fourteen.” She pulled at some loose threads on the towel before setting it down and looking up. “But so was I and so were you, we’re not gonna stop it. And neither of us ever asked about Planned Parenthood at that age. What was I gonna say? No?”

“I guess not.” Lip sighed and looked out the window, scratching a hand through his hair. “You, though,” he said adamantly, turning to point directly at Fiona. “You better make sure she takes them.”

“I’m the one who told her to keep them by her toothbrush so she doesn’t forget and you better believe I’m lookin’ every day and countin’ ‘em,” Fiona promised as she patted the pack in her pocket.

"I can't deal with all that girl shit." Lip shook his head. “C’mon, you want to see this beauty or what?”

“The scooter?” Fiona asked sarcastically as she crossed her arms against the wind and followed Lip onto the porch.

"It's a moped." Lip held up a finger in correction, looking back as he trotted down the stairs to the sidewalk. "A hybrid moped that we're gonna sell."

Fiona snickered, following him down. "To who?"

"Pawn shop. It's a one of a kind. My lab partner from last year built it, developed a mini-conversion kit for the combustible engine that can run on used vegetable or peanut oil." Lip circled the moped, popping the seat off to reveal several small tanks and switches nestled inside the frame. “You just need a little bit of diesel to turn the engine over and warm the oil to the proper viscosity, then you flip this switch and boom, you’re burning alternative fuel.”

Fiona looked at the tanks and switches, shaking her head. “I have no idea what you just said, but I think it explains why you smell like the deep fried platter at Patsy’s.”

"Exactly,” Lip said smugly, snapping the seat back on. “Restaurants pay to have used grease disposed of, they'll give it away for free. This thing is practically costless to run.”

Fiona kicked the front tire, examining the moped doubtfully. "Why would he just give it to you if it's so amazing?"

Lip lolled his head back and forth, avoiding eye contact while he suppressed a smile.

"Holy shit, you stole it!" Fiona shoved him roughly, going back in again when he blocked her and cackled.

"Borrowed, I borrowed it and we're gonna get it back.” Lip dug in his pocket and produced two sets of matching keys. “Once I sell it, we just gotta wait ‘til they put it out front. You go in and distract them and I’ll take off with it. We’ll have the money for the water bill and I can return this before anyone ever knows it’s gone.”

Fiona shook her head in amazement. “You have it all figured out, huh?”

“Isn’t that why you called me?” Lip asked, digging in his pockets for cigarettes and his lighter.

Fiona pulled her sweater down over her fingers, apprehension growing in the back of her mind. “I can’t be getting caught sellin’ stolen property, or stealin’ it back. Gail will have my ass if I fuck up again.”

“We’ll have Debs do it. She just has to go in and ask to see some stuff, keep them occupied while I get it out of there,” Lip said, tapping a cigarette from his pack and raising his brows. “It’ll keep her boyfriend out of her pants for the afternoon.”

“That could work,” Fiona mused, running her finger over the handlebars before throwing a leg over and sitting down on the seat. “I’ll just text her and tell her we’re picking her up and I’ll get Carl to come home and get Liam off the bus.” Fiona held her hand out, gesturing for the cigarette. “How much you think you can get for it?”

Lip took a puff and passed it over, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s worth about a grand, maybe a little over, so pawn shop price? I was gonna hold out for five hundred.”

“Enough for the water bill and a little profit.” Fiona nodded her head slowly, the whole scheme seeming too easy to resist. She took a long pull from the cigarette and smiled, leaning down to grab the handlebars. “Hop on. I’m drivin’.”

*

Ian tightened his grip on the backpack slung over his shoulder and marched across the clearing of the park, his boots crunching against the rustling leaves. He glanced back, making sure Mickey was still in tow as he circled the chain link fencing, cursing when all the gates were locked.

“Could’ve told ya it would be locked up.” Mickey took a final hit from his cigarette and flicked it to the ground. He shoved his hands into his jacket and shrugged. “It’s gettin’ cold, let’s just head back.”

“No.” Ian scowled, annoyed by Mickey’s lack of enthusiasm. “Hold this.” He shoved his backpack into Mickey’s chest and jumped up, scaling the fence. The short distance to the top seemed much further as he struggled, finally swinging his leg over and lowering himself down on the other side. “Throw me the bag.”

Mickey tossed the backpack over the fence and began climbing, Ian observing him begrudgingly as he cleared the top with ease and hopped down. “Just like old times,” Mickey chuckled and looked to Ian, who promptly darted his eyes away and hiked the backpack up on his shoulder.

“C’mon.” Mickey sighed and grabbed the cuff of Ian’s coat, leading him across the field. Ian's irritation ebbed away when Mickey’s hand met his, their fingers twisting together.

“Haven’t been here since-” Mickey trailed off as he stepped down into the dugout, his mouth pulling up in a fond smile as he glanced back.

“Since Svetlana and Nika kicked us out of the house for the night,” Ian finished and dropped his bag on the bench. He joined Mickey by the fencing, following his gaze out over the baseball diamond.

”Yeah. Still the same, though. Nothing ever changes here,” Mickey assured, nodding out to the field as he brushed against Ian’s side, bumping their arms together. “Never does.”

Holding his tongue, Ian walked away, not wanting to spoil the moment with an objection. “Let’s do some pull ups,” he suggested, stepping up to wrap his fingers around the shelter’s frame. Mickey raised his brows, amused as Ian pulled himself up until his chin cleared the top of the bar.

"One," Ian grunted and bit his lip when the burning in his muscles intensified as he lowered himself and attempted to rise again. Barely clearing the top the third time, he gave up, his arms already too shaky to hold on any longer.

“I’m out of shape,” he murmured apologetically, breathing hard. He stretched his arms and glanced down, his eyes meeting Mickey’s and seeing that they were no longer amused, but concerned. Ian jumped down and brushed past him, elbowing him toward the steps. “You do it.”

“Nah, man.” Mickey shook his head and sat back on the edge of the cement, spitting on the ground. “You really drag me down here to do fuckin’ pull ups?”

"Yes.” Ian huffed in exasperation and stepped up to sit down on the wooden bench. Hunching over, he attempted to slow his breathing and nodded to the steps. "Just go fucking do it.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled, despite the corner of his mouth tugging up as he stripped his coat off and tossed it to the ground. Walking over to appease Ian’s request, Mickey wet his lips and reached up, his hands catching the edge of the frame.

Ian leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees as Mickey repeatedly hoisted himself up with sharp quick movements, Ian silently counting every one.

“That good enough for ya?” Mickey’s voice was strained as he kept his knees bent and dangled from his arms in the entryway of the dugout.

Ian nodded, eyes dropping to the ground when he heard Mickey’s feet hit the concrete. Mickey let out a little laugh, barely winded as he made his way back over to stand in front of Ian.

“Always could do more than you.” Mickey scratched his fingers through Ian’s hair, grinning as he pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Ian leaned into it, curling a hand behind Mickey's neck and holding him there as he kissed him again, his tongue peeking out to lick along Mickey’s bottom lip.

"Kiss me," Ian begged against Mickey's still closed mouth. Mickey parted his lips, humming into Ian’s mouth as he licked against his tongue, soft and slow. Ian tightened his grip and kissed him back, moving his mouth faster and sucking Mickey’s tongue in deeper, desperately hoping the rest of his body would cooperate. Ian spread his legs and reached around to palm and squeeze at Mickey's ass, pulling him in closer.

“Ian,” Mickey groaned and pulled his mouth away, panting as he rested their foreheads together. They breathed in sync, Ian closing his eyes as Mickey's hot breath ghosted over his face. Tilting his chin up, Ian connected their mouths again and dropped a hand to rub over the front of Mickey's jeans, kneading and encouraging the hardness growing there. Mickey stroked his thumb along Ian’s jaw, deepening the kiss before groaning again and abruptly taking a step back as he fluttered his eyes open and looked away.

"Don't." Ian reached out for him, cursing when Mickey moved out of his grasp.

“Need a smoke.” Mickey coughed and bent over to pick up his jacket and pull it on. He searched the pockets, finally lighting a cigarette and reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans.

“I can help with that.” Ian nodded down and stood, hooking two fingers into Mickey’s belt loops and backing up to sit down on the bench. Ian went for his zipper, but Mickey’s hands thwarted his mission.

Mickey offered him a charitable smile, eyes dropping between Ian’s legs before sliding back up to his face as he gently pushed his hands away. “It’s cool.”

Ian sat back and ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated by another hiccup in his plan. “It’s not fucking cool. Why do you say that all the time?"

"You know what I mean,” Mickey sighed and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Whatever," Ian muttered under his breath and unzipped the backpack, ignoring Mickey’s disapproving glare when he pulled out the cans of beer they had already argued about once. “We're gonna shotgun these. Gimme your knife.”

“Don’t have it.” Mickey hit his cigarette and sauntered a few steps away.

“I saw you with it at the diner.” Ian narrowed his eyes and laughed dryly when Mickey shrugged, feigning ignorance. “You know what? Forget it. Heads up.” He tossed a can at Mickey and popped the tab on the other, taking a long swallow and wiping his mouth. "Shit, that fucking tastes good."

Mickey shook his head, setting his can down on the ledge. “You’re not supposed to drink on lithium.”

"So I've heard,” Ian said in between chugs.

“It makes your blood toxic and you’re gonna get hammered in like two seconds flat.”

“Good.” Ian stood, tilting the can higher.

“Jesus.” Mickey grabbed the can, forcing it back down and away from Ian’s mouth. “At least take it slow if you’re not gonna fuckin’ listen. Why you so hell bent on doing all this stupid shit?”

"It's not stupid shit," Ian snapped, forfeiting the beer to Mickey and storming away. He hooked his fingers into the fence and gazed out over the baseball diamond. "It wasn’t _ever_ stupid shit. It was great and that’s why I wanted to come here like we used to. Just you, me, a couple beers. Do some pull ups, fuck around, whatever we wanted." Ian paused, gritting his teeth and feeling foolish at the tears rising behind his eyes. "You wouldn't think it was stupid if you couldn't do it anymore."

Mickey clicked his tongue, his expression warming as he squeezed the back of Ian’s neck. “It’s all temporary. You can try different meds soon and all that shit I bought today is gonna help.”

”It’s not gonna help, Mickey.” Ian pulled away and sat back down on the bench. “It’s been almost two months and nothing’s happening except I can’t stay up past 9, my hands shake all day and my dick only works half the time.”

Mickey stomped over, tilting Ian's chin up to look into his eyes. “You’re going back next week and you’re telling her you want to try somethin' else." Mickey said firmly, as if it was all that easy. "That was the plan.”

Ian turned his head away. “What’s the plan if she says I have to wait another couple weeks before trying something new, huh? Or what’s the plan gonna be if I do get something new and it’s worse? You gonna wait another two months with me? Then when that one doesn’t work, you gonna wait around ‘til next year? When you gonna decide that you don’t want to wait anymore?”

“Told you already.” Mickey sat next to Ian, squeezing his knee. "Don’t worry about me. As long as it takes, I'm stickin' around.”

“Yeah, well." Ian rubbed at his eyes, still keeping the wetness at bay. "Maybe you shouldn’t.”

"You're gonna be fine," Mickey insisted, tossing his cigarette to the ground.

“I could turn out like my mom, you know. Stop taking my pills one day and then you’re left waiting around for me to do my next crazy shit." Ian swallowed, hearing the fear seep into his own voice. "You think a porn and running off with Yev was bad? It could get worse than that. You still gonna tell me I'm fine then?”

Mickey shook his head, knocking his knee into Ian’s leg. "The fuck you talkin’ about? You're the one always sayin' you're not like your mom."

"Except I'm scared that I am." Ian blinked and quickly wiped at a single tear that had escaped. "I don't wanna keep hurting you, Mickey. I know what that's like and it's awful."

"You're just fuckin’ tired. We shoulda stayed home." Mickey stood and waved Ian off as he began to pace, his teeth worrying his lip. "And I know you wanna talk about all that shit that happened but we're better off waitin' until things settle down. We'll talk about it all you want when things are back to normal."

“It’s never going back to how it was, Mick." Ian shook his head, grabbing Mickey's wrists and forcing him to stand still. "You keep saying that we’ll figure shit out when I get better, but I’m not gonna get better.” Ian held his arms out, showcasing himself. “This is it, Mickey. This is what it looks like.”

"No." Mickey rubbed at his nose and shook his head adamantly. "You're getting better. We talk about it all the time."

" _You_ talk about it all the time," Ian corrected. "And _you_ keep track of my appointments and _you_ feed me pills and _you_ make sure I eat enough and _you_ put me to fucking bed every night. But me?" Ian’s voice gave out as tears flooded his eyes. "I'm barely here."

“What are you sayin’, Ian?” Mickey asked, his voice rough and fraught as he sat back down.

“I’m saying that I wanted this.” Ian weakly gestured between them. “I wanted it forever, but not like this.” Ian’s eyes blurred as he gazed longingly at Mickey’s face, swallowing down the ache in his throat as Mickey’s eyes widened, water pooling at the corners. “I love you, Mickey.”

“Then we keep doing what we’re doing.” Mickey quickly rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sniffled before looking back. “We'll take care of each other, thick and thin, good times and bad, sickness and health. All that shit.”

“Yeah?" Ian blinked, grieving at being the cause of the desperation in Mickey's eyes, the wet tracks down his face. "Except I don't take care of you and I'm always gonna be sick. Don't you get it? It's always gonna be more bad times than good.” Unable to look at Mickey any longer, Ian hung his head, watching droplets fall and soak little stains into his jeans. “I don’t want that for you and I won't put you through it.”

"Ian." Mickey wrapped his fingers around Ian’s jaw, forcing Ian to face him. “ _I love you_ ,” he said slowly, each word tinged with fear and worry, just like the first time Ian heard it.

Ian turned away, a few more tears sliding down his cheeks as he struggled to hold back the rest. “I know,” he paused, scrubbing his face into his palms and pushing himself to his feet. “That’s why I’m doin’ this.”

“You’re tired. Let’s go home, you can take a nap. You’ll feel better after a nap.” Mickey rambled, sniffling and swiping at his nose. "You shouldn’t have drank that beer and it’s almost time for you to take your meds."

Ian grabbed his backpack, leaving the leftover beers on the bench. “I think I should go home alone."

Mickey’s mouth hung open as he shook his head, watching Ian head for the steps. "Are you really breakin’ up with me? Just like that?”

Ian stopped in his tracks, wincing at hearing the phrase. Unsure if he was doing the right thing, he blinked and took in how shocked Mickey looked with his red eyes and wet face. “Yeah,” he said, the word wobbly as he licked his lips and tasted the salt from tears that continued to soak his skin. "Yeah, I think I am."

Ian turned before Mickey could reply and kept walking, only looking back to the dugout once. He choked back a sob at his last glimpse of Mickey, still standing in the exact same spot.

*

Veronica paced the living room, Gemma screaming in her arms. “I don’t get it, they were fine yesterday. Maybe a little more fussy but nowhere near this shit.”

“I told you I thought they were getting sick,” Kevin said, bouncing Amy in his arms as she coughed and hacked.

“Gemma, I don’t know what you want.” Veronica gritted through her teeth, holding her unhappy daughter up so that they were face to face. Gemma reared her head back and closed her eyes, unleashing a fine mist of moisture as she sneezed all over Veronica. "Motherf-" Veronica's words were cut off when Gemma sprayed her again.

Hiding a smile, Kevin offered her Amy. “Here, trade me.”

Veronica wrinkled her nose as Amy rubbed her eyes and coughed into Kevin’s chest. “She’s coughing everywhere.”

Kevin snorted and shook his head. "Well, it's sneezy or coughy," he said and pointed from Gemma to Amy. "Pick your poison here, babe.”

Veronica looked down at Gemma who was pouting, finger up one nostril as green mucus leaked out of the other. "Switch."

They traded babies, Veronica just getting Amy settled on her hip when she sneezed, showering Veronica's face yet again. "Goddamn it." She set Amy in the middle of a blanket on the floor, much to Amy's dismay.

"Hold on," Veronica said to the screaming infant as she dug through the baby bag for a wipe. "They're miserable." She spoke over Amy’s cries and looked to Kevin who was holding an aspirator to Gemma's nose in an attempt to suck the drainage out. "You need to go get Tylenol."

Kevin grimaced, avoiding Veronica's insistent staring.

"Kevin, I know you've read stuff on the internet and all those crunchy yoga moms don't give their babies medicine, but that's not us. We like medicine! Mama used to rub whiskey on my gums when I was their age and I’m fine.”

“It’s not that I’m _against_ it, it’s just not natural and I don’t think they want synthetic things in their bodies.”

“They don’t know what they want, I know what they want. Look at them!" Veronica pointed to both girls, red eyed and pouting. “If you looked like that, you'd want Tylenol."

Kevin shook his head and leaned Gemma back on his lap, angling the aspirator at her nose again. "If we keep spraying their noses with saline and run the vaporizer and-"

"Bullshit." Veronica pulled Gemma from his arms. "We tried it your way all day. I was practically a nurse and _I'm_ their mother. I'm telling you, go get them some goddamn Tylenol so we can all rest for a few hours."

Kevin’s eyes fell to the floor when Amy started coughing again, letting out little wet hiccups at the end of each one. “Alright, they probably are uncomfortable,” he conceded, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “You need anything else?”

Veronica followed him, holding the door open as he left. "No, just get it and hurry back before I drown in snot and no one's here to save me."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips as he wound his arm around her waist and yanked her closer. “You know, this whole I'm the mommy and I'm in charge thing is kind of hot."

"You got serious fucking issues," she muttered and pushed him onto the porch, pausing as she closed the door to call after him. "But maybe later!"

Veronica groaned as she took in the mess they’d accumulated in just a few hours of being awake. Used tissues, baby wipes, and discarded toys were scattered on almost every surface. "Alright, baby girl." Veronica set Gemma down on the blanket next to Amy. "You wanna talk to your sister? Tell her what freaks your parents are while I get you guys some juice and try to straighten up."

Gemma frowned, spurring her already disgruntled sister to do the same. Amy crawled toward Veronica as they both started whining, feeding off of each other’s cries until they were wailing in unison.

“I’m getting it,” Veronica huffed, watering down some juice she had poured into their sippy cups when there was a light rapping on the door. "Who the hell is here,” she grumbled and hooked her fingers through the handles of two cups. She scooped Amy up and out of her way, toting her awkwardly under an arm as she walked to the front of the house.

She swung the door open, underwhelmed by the sight before her. "What do you want?" Veronica asked, her words sharp and biting as she tried to pull Amy into a more respectable position while Gemma screamed in the background.

Svetlana raised a brow, peeking her head in to look around. "Husband here?"

"No." Veronica sidestepped to block her view.

"He left you alone with babies?" Svetlana asked skeptically, eyeing Amy as she screamed and dangled under Veronica’s arm.

"Yeah,” Veronica said with confidence and stood taller. "Not that it's any of your business. What exactly do you want? I'm kinda busy here."

"Kevin call and say he needs vaporizer back." Svetlana held up a green water tank shaped like a frog’s head and a base with an electrical cord.

"Why did you have it in the first place?”

"He let me take when I leave. Zhenya had cold."

Veronica shook her head, thinking she didn’t hear her correctly. "Who the fuck is Zhenya?"

"Is mother’s name for Yevgeny. Like sweetie, honey, baby.” Svetlana waited a beat, raising one sculpted brow. “You do not have mother's name for girls?"

Veronica shrugged, walking into the living room and leaving the door open for Svetlana to follow her in. "We were calling them coughy and sneezy but I’m thinking about changing it to whiny and screamy." She set the cups down and pulled Amy up onto her hip. “Just put the frog down somewhere and be on your way. I'll tell Kevin you dropped it off and that you said goodbye."

Svetlana placed the vaporizer on the littered table and picked up Gemma from the floor, whispering to her as Veronica glared. Svetlana slid her into the swing and turned it on, giving it a starting push. “She likes swing when she's cranky.” Svetlana smiled when Gemma stopped fussing and grabbed at the toys hanging above her head. “This one likes back rubs,” she added, reaching out to trace a few circles on Amy’s back.

“I know you didn’t just touch both my babies,” Veronica spat, turning to hold Amy out of Svetlana’s reach and causing her to cry even more.

“Fine.” Svetlana shrugged and headed for the front door. “I will go.”

Veronica waited until Svetlana wasn’t looking and rubbed Amy’s back, irritated when the infant instantly calmed. “Hey.”

“Yes?”

Veronica rolled her eyes at herself, not believing what she was about to do. “What did you do when Z-” Veronica held the consonant sound, waiting for Svetlana to finish the word for her.

“Zhenya,” Svetlana said slowly.

“Yeah, sorry or whatever but what did you do when he was sick?”

“Vaporizer, salt sprays in nose, suck the snot out,” Svetlana listed before adding, “and Tylenol.”

“See, Kev isn’t sure about giving the girls medicine like that, thinks it’ll hurt ‘em or something.”

“I tell your husband before, is medicine for babies! There is picture of baby on box,” Svetlana scoffed. “My mother give me vodka when I was baby and look, I am fine.”

“I know! That’s what I said,” Veronica agreed excitedly before she caught herself and pursed her lips. She swayed quietly with Amy for a moment, still rubbing circles onto her back. “Look, I didn’t mean to be a bitch to you, but you have to understand that you moving in on my man and shacking up over here, that shit was _not_ cool.”

Svetlana shook her head, unfazed by the accusation. “I do not want husband. I have husband, do not want another.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes and shifted Amy from one hip to the other. “Why you hang around Kev so much then?”

“He is nice,” Svetlana said plainly. “He is only person who likes to talk about babies and he does not care who I am or what I do. Does not call me whore or hooker.”

Veronica’s face warmed with embarrassment, knowing the same couldn’t be said of her. “Kevin’s a good guy,” she murmured to herself and turned away, walking to the kitchen. “Do you want a drink or something, or do you have to go?”

“Mandy has baby and she has work later.” Svetlana grabbed one of the sippy cups and took it over to Gemma in the swing. “But I can stay and help for little.”

Veronica took two beers out of the fridge and walked back to the living room, offering one to Svetlana. “Thanks, but I was thinking more we could keep talking shit on Kev, you might just be the ally I need.”

Svetlana nodded and Veronica chuckled deviously, clinking their bottles together and smiling.

*

Fiona leaned against the brick wall, her hand clammy against the wad of cash in her pocket as she contemplated looking around the corner. It had been thirty minutes since Debbie went into the shop, Fiona keeping a close watch on the time as her deadline drew near.

She was just about to peek when Debbie came rushing around the corner, out of breath and almost crashing into Fiona.

“Why you runnin’?” Fiona asked, panic taking over.

Debbie bent over, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. “He saw Lip take off with it while he was showing me a sapphire ring. He ran right out of the shop and took off half way down the block after Lip screaming about the ‘veggie bike’.” Debbie laughed and shook Fiona’s shoulders. “Oh my god, that was so much fun!”

Fiona grabbed Debbie’s arms, pushing them down and smiling. “Well, that was your first and last hoorah so soak up the rush while it lasts,” she said and looked around the corner for Lip. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, thought he’d be with you.”

Fiona chewed the inside of her cheek and watched all the people bustling around, getting more anxious with every minute that he didn’t appear. She exhaled the deep breath she’d been holding when she heard the moped and looked to see him racing toward them from the opposite direction, grinning wildly as the wind blew through his hair.

“Good job, Debs!” Lip held his hand up, Debbie smacking it squarely in a high-five as he slowed to a stop.

“You two are a real pair,” Fiona snorted, still paranoid and glancing around the corner to the pawn shop. She turned back, nodding to Debbie. “Lip, get her outta here, I gotta go pay the water bill and then I’ll just walk home.”

“You sure?” he asked, scooting up to make room for Debbie to sit behind him. “I can come back around and pick you up.”

“Are you nuts?” Fiona shook her head and peeked around the corner one more time. “You need to get the hell outta here and stay away for awhile.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” Lip teased and twisted the throttle on the handlebar, chuckling as the engine whined. “Hold on, Debs,” he said over his shoulder as they pulled away.

“See ya at home, Fi!” Debbie waved as Lip raced away, bypassing all the traffic by riding along the curb.

Fiona shook her head and walked a few blocks, picking up her pace when she checked the time and saw she only had fifteen minutes left to get to the payment center. She was sliding her phone back into her pocket when a woman’s voice caught her attention.

“Fiona!”

Fiona looked around, not recognizing any of the people near her, and kept walking. She only took a few more steps when she heard it again, close enough to tell it was coming from behind.

“Fiona, wait up.”

She turned around to see a blonde woman pushing past a few people, Fiona not recognizing her until they were face to face. "Jasmine?"

“You trying to run away from me?” Jasmine straightened her cashmere coat, smoothing her hands down the double breasted buttons on the front. “I guess I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No, I, I didn’t see you,” Fiona stuttered out, gaping in awe as she tried to process how different Jasmine looked, her blonde hair just skimming her shoulders and her makeup painted on perfectly.

“How’ve you been?” Jasmine asked, pulling her purse higher onto her shoulder and smiling. “How are the kids?”

“Good. We’re all good, real good.” Fiona shook her head slowly, still in shock but reminding herself to ask the same. “How are you? Your kids?”

“I’m great,” Jasmine replied, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “And the kids are good. Hal and I split so we share custody of them, fifty-fifty.”

“Well, you look like you’re doing great.” Fiona waved a hand up and down Jasmine's body before her fingers went to her own hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. She shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how underwhelming she must look.

“Please.” Jasmine waved her off. “I’m just dressed for work, I’m between clients and came out to grab some dinner.”

Fiona smiled weakly, aware that she was just being polite. “What are you doing these days? Still accounting?”

“Hell no.” Jasmine's face twisted into a grimace as she slid her hands into her coat pockets. “That was Hal’s thing. I started my own business, a dating service of sorts.”

Fiona snorted, huddling down into her coat against a gust of wind. “Like online dating? Maybe you could fix me up with my soulmate.”

Jasmine shook her head and chuckled. “Not really that kind of service. Think less soulmate,” she paused, raising a brow suggestively. “And more _playmate_.”

“Oh,” Fiona said, nodding her head as the idea sunk in. “Ohhh.”

Jasmine winked, confirming the hunch. “Yeah, it’s not so different than what I used to do, only instead of getting weekend trips and jewelry, I’m bringing home legitimate cash. Plus, I’m not personally involved, I’m merely the matchmaker, so to speak.”

Curiosity piqued, Fiona leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “So, you’re like a madame or something.”

“Or something.” Jasmine bumped shoulders with her. “It’s complicated, but it’s all legal and totally aboveboard.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“I’ve missed you, Fiona,” Jasmine said, smiling fondly. “What’ve you been up to lately? Ever get into club promoting like you used to talk about?”

“No.” Fiona looked to the ground and laughed the question off, covering the sting to her ego. “I’m workin’ at a diner right now,” she added, sliding her eyes back up and holding her head a little higher. “Lookin’ for something better, though. Liam’s in Head Start all day this year so my schedule is more open.”

Jasmine nodded her head thoughtfully, opening her purse. “You think you’d be interested in working with me?”

“What? No. I’m not-” Fiona looked around, shaking her head and smiling nervously. “No.”

Jasmine laughed, pulling a business card from her wallet and pushing it into Fiona’s hand. “Not like that, like _with_ me. Things have really blown up with client referrals and I’m really just overwhelmed. That’s why I’m going back to work after dinner, I’m the only one on the office side of things and I need another person.”

Fiona stared at the black business card, running her thumb over the golden embossed lettering before glancing back up. “You serious?”

“Yeah, why not? I know how you are, Fiona. You’re a good worker, you’re smart and savvy and good with people. That’s all I need. I met with a few people already and have two more to see, but I’d love to throw you in the mix and give you a shot.“

“I got a record now,” Fiona confessed, shifting her weight as she read the card one more time before offering it back to Jasmine. “Did a little time earlier this year.”

“Not a problem.” Jasmine reached out to close Fiona’s fingers around the business card and push it back. “My number’s on here, give me a call tomorrow and we’ll set something up.”

“That,” Fiona paused, still overwhelmed by the possibility. “That would be great. Thanks, Jasmine.”

“Sure.”

“Shit, I gotta go.” Fiona remembered her mission to pay the water bill and pulled her phone out to check the time. “Yeah, shit. I’m sorry, I’m gonna be late for somethin’.” She rushed away but turned around, walking backwards and waving the card. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Jasmine waved back and Fiona turned to pick up her pace to a jog, unable to stop smiling as she tucked the business card into her pocket.

*

Mickey pushed himself off the cement support column as the El raced over him, shaking the old metal tracks. He rubbed his palms into his eyes and hit his cigarette, looking again to the lights glowing in the window of the house. His house.

He exhaled and dropped the butt to the ground, twisting it into the pavement with his boot on his way to the steps. Stopping at the bottom, he took a deep breath before he trudged up the stairs, his eyes going to the battered and nicked up dresser on the porch. The top drawer was pulled out and hanging open, hundreds of little shampoo and body wash bottles on display. Sighing, he leaned over to slam it shut and pushed open the front door.

A rush of warm air and the smell of food greeted him, the heat stinging his eyes and the aroma of food turning his already queasy stomach. Svetlana was dancing between the stove and fridge, singing along with a commercial on the television.

Mickey stood by the front door, taking in the scene and feeling like a stranger in the house that no longer felt like his home.

Svetlana scooped something onto a plastic spoon and deposited it into Yevgeny's mouth, talking to him in Russian. She left him to chew on the spoon while she tended to her food on the stove.

Shrugging off his coat, Mickey crept in quietly, stopping when Svetlana turned and froze in her steps.

"What are you doing here?" she stuttered, flicking the stove off and pushing her food back off the burner. Moving quickly, she put herself between him and Yevgeny.

"I live here," he said and threw his coat onto the couch.

"No, you live with boyfriend," she corrected, crossing her arms across her puffed up chest. "Me and Yevgeny live here. And Mandy. You have not been here for months, go be with crazy boyfriend."

"Yeah, well, change of plans." Mickey wiped a hand down his face, self-conscious that she could see the hot scratchiness in his eyes. "I'm gonna be stayin’ here again," he continued, willing his voice not to waver. He peered around her at Yevgeny, who was banging his spoon against the tray of his highchair.

Panicked, Svetlana stepped over so that she was in his line of sight as she rambled furiously. "Veronica is back at house. I have nowhere to go. I cannot be out in the street, winter is almost here and Yevgeny was sick once. He does not even have coat."

Mickey's eyes darted from Yevgeny to hers. "It's fuckin' cold out now, what've you been doin' when you take him out?"

Svetlana nodded to a pile of blankets stacked up on top of the stroller. "I wrap him."

Mickey sighed, watching Yevgeny, who was still watching him. He pushed Svetlana aside and walked over, crouching down in front of the high chair. Yevgeny blinked his wide eyes and gnawed on the rubber of his spoon, raising his brows at Mickey expectantly.

"He's big," Mickey said softly, lightly squeezing Yevgeny's socked toes between his fingers.

"We have nowhere else to go." Svetlana stalked over to stand guard by the high chair. "I found surrogate family but I get no money until I'm pregnant. Half at three months, rest when baby comes. When I get money I can find-"

"You can stay here." Mickey stood and walked to where he'd left his coat on the couch. "As long as you want. You and the kid can stay." He unfolded his wallet and pulled out a couple of the only bills he had left, tossing them on the table. "I'm tapped out right now but that should be enough. Get him a fuckin' coat."

Svetlana looked from him to the money, slightly dumbfounded, but slid it into her palm and tucked it into her bra. "What about boyfriend? Boyfriend cannot be around baby."

Mickey put a cigarette to his mouth, letting it bounce between his lips as he spoke. "Stop calling him that."

"Ian," Svetlana groaned. "Ian cannot-"

"Don't call him anything." Mickey exhaled a thick billow of smoke and dropped his lighter and cigarettes onto the table. "Don't say his name, don't talk about him."

Svetlana's forehead wrinkled, but she said nothing, only examined Mickey more closely.

Avoiding her prying stare, he sat down on the couch and rubbed at his forehead, blinking back the relentless wetness. "He won't be coming here, okay? Now just fuckin' drop it."

When he heard nothing, he glanced back to see her still standing there, eyeing him suspiciously. "What?" Mickey spat and turned back around, protecting himself from her gaze.

Svetlana rolled her eyes, walking back to the kitchen. "You hungry?"

Mickey rubbed his lips together, grimacing as the chapped skin pulled and burned. "No."

"I'll make you a plate. I go to bathroom then we eat."

"Don't wanna fuckin' eat," Mickey snapped, turning around to see her closing the bathroom door behind her.

He fell back into the couch and hit his cigarette again, hearing a whimper behind him. "She'll be back in a minute," Mickey called over his shoulder.

Mickey heard the spoon hit the floor, followed by a whine and little huff. He turned and watched Yevgeny's face twist and pull, working himself up into a good cry. He glanced to the bathroom door and back to Yevgeny, who was kicking his feet and glaring at Mickey with knitted brows.

"Don’t fuckin' do it." Mickey rose to his feet and smashed the cigarette in the ashtray. He walked to the high chair and slid the tray away to lift Yevgeny out, the weight in his arms surprising.

"No cryin'," Mickey warned, holding his son awkwardly. Yevgeny balled his fists into Mickey's shirt and pulled himself closer, tucking his head under Mickey's chin as he sniveled.

"Said no cryin'," Mickey repeated, the syllables cracking as he swayed back and forth, pushing away the memory of who taught him the strategy. He closed his eyes and mindlessly pressed a kiss to Yevgeny's head, the smell of his wispy hair bringing everything right back and triggering uncontrollable moisture to spring from his eyes.

Svetlana emerged from the bathroom and rushed over at seeing them, but stood wordlessly as she witnessed the sight. Feeling her stare, Mickey opened his eyes and quickly pushed Yevgeny into her arms.

"Where are you going?" Svetlana called after him when he grabbed his jacket and headed for the front door. Yevgeny sputtered and squirmed against her chest, threatening to wail.

Mickey didn't answer, slamming the door shut just as the baby began to cry, the sound fading as he rushed down the stairs and started to walk. Not knowing where to go, he followed the sunset, watching the last sliver of orange disappear from the sky through tear blurred eyes.

*

Ian turned onto Wallace Street, unsure of how he made it there after the meds and the beer and everything that happened, but there he was, eyes bloodshot and face stained with tears. The pounding in his head intensified when he recalled the day, rubbing at his eyes and wondering how things got so fucked up. He blinked and stopped right before the house, his gaze drawn to the last hint of daylight fading into the horizon.

“Private Phillip Gallagher.”

Ian’s head whipped up to see a man in uniform approaching him, his eyes quickly taking in the numerous ribbons and badges adorning his chest. Glancing to the house, Ian discovered two soldiers descending the steps of the front porch and headed straight for him.

“That’s your name, right?” the officer asked, smiling smugly and taking a few steps closer. Ian’s breath seized in his lungs when he was bumped from behind, two more soldiers he wasn't aware of suddenly slipping their hands under his arms and guiding him toward a black SUV. “We’ve been looking for you for awhile now, Ian. You're going to come with us.”

Panicked, Ian's eyes darted from face to face to face, surrounded as he tried to form words. “Listen,” he stammered out. “I can explain.”

“Ian!” Fiona’s voice boomed down the street. Ian struggled to see past the men still ushering him along and spotted her, racing toward them.

"Fiona!" Ian called for her, distraught with more tears threatening his swollen eyes. He attempted to jerk his arms free from his apprehenders, who simultaneously responded by gripping his biceps even tighter.

“What the fuck, let him go.” Fiona ran right into them, pummeling one of the men tightly clutching Ian’s arm. “What the hell is goin' on? Let him go!”

The officer stepped between Fiona and the soldier, restraining her flailing arms and easing her back. “Ma’am, exactly who are you?”

Fiona flung his hands away and squared her shoulders, stepping into his space so that they were toe to toe. “I’m his sister, who are you?”

“I’m Sergeant Rill, we’re here to take your brother into military custody.”

“Custody?” Fiona asked incredulously. “For what?”

“You want the whole list?” Sergeant Rill asked, turning to set his gaze on Ian. Ian shrunk down and dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut and readying himself to hear the list of transgressions. “Private Gallagher is being accused of going AWOL, theft and sabotage of government property, and falsifying a document to enlist in the United States Armed Forces.”

Ian hung his head lower with each offense that was listed, only lifting his eyes to see Fiona gaping at the accusations.

“Well, he has a mental illness, you can’t hold him accountable for all of that,” Fiona stated bluntly and crossed her arms, eyeing the officer up and down.

“What kind of mental illness?” Sergeant Rill narrowed his eyes and looked from Ian to Fiona.

Ian lifted his head, witnessing the worry carve wrinkles into Fiona’s forehead. She held his gaze, her eyes apologizing before she turned back to the Sergeant. “He’s bipolar, probably has been since last year.”

The sergeant mulled over the information, studying Ian before gesturing to his soldiers. In unison, they released their grip and stepped back, one rushing back forward to grab Ian’s arm when his legs gave out at the sudden loss of support.

“Ian,” Fiona gasped and rushed toward him, pulling his face up between her hands. “You okay?”

“I’m tired, Fiona.” Ian blinked and surrendered to the prickling in his eyes as he pushed himself closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder and letting tears fall and wet her jacket. “I’m just tired and gone.”

“Shhhh. It’s gonna be okay.” Fiona hugged him tightly, her hand rubbing over his back. Ian pressed his face harder into her shoulder and sobbed in earnest, refusing to acknowledge the circle of men gawking at them as he closed his eyes.


	11. All Banged Up

Ian bounced his knee as he sat on the couch, head down, fingers clasped together in front of him, elbows resting on his legs. He listened as the sergeants spoke to him and Fiona answered for him, unable to choke out the responses himself.

“Mr. Gallagher, do you understand what’s happening?” Sergeant Rill asked.

Ian could feel the Sergeant’s stare but he refused to look up, his swollen eyes remaining fixed on the man’s boot instead.

“He understands,” Fiona jumped in.

Sergeant Rill cleared his throat, throwing Fiona a sharp glare before speaking directly to Ian again.

“Mr. Gallagher, let me be clear, just to make sure we’re on the same page. You’re being charged with identity fraud for falsifying a legal document to pose as your brother. You’re also being charged with theft and property damage for attempting to steal a helicopter and destroying it in the process. And to make things worse, after all that you went AWOL.” He leaned forward, trying to catch Ian’s eye. “This is no small matter.”

“But you’re factorin’ in everything else, right? You knew he was underage?”

Sergeant Rill ignored Fiona’s question, refusing to take his attention off Ian. Ian tilted his head down a bit more to let a few chunks of hair fall in front of his face, further shielding his eyes from the officer.

“Upon investigating further we realized that this was a unique circumstance,” Sergeant Howard answered. “Enlisting at seventeen is not permitted, but that doesn’t counteract any of the crimes your brother committed.”

Fiona frowned, her gaze traveling around the room while she tried to think fast. “But him bein’ mentally ill, that’s gotta counteract somethin’, doesn’t it?”

Ian closed his eyes, speeding up the pace of his bouncing knee as his sister said the words that now seemed to define him. He was sure a tear would’ve escaped in that moment if there had been any left in him, but his eyes were dry for the first time that night.

Sergeant Howard shared a glance with Sergeant Rill before answering. “We weren’t aware of that previously.”

“He was diagnosed a couple months ago.” Fiona perked up, straightening her back and opening her eyes eagerly. “He was in the hospital, we can prove it.”

Sergeant Howard looked uncertain. “Well, one way or another we will be needing those medical records.”

“You got it.” Fiona fidgeted on the couch beside him, wringing her hands in her lap. “Look, it’s really late, we’re totally blindsided by this, and by the looks of it, you are too. Can we please just get some rest and talk about this tomorrow? What difference is one day gonna make?”

“We can take him into custody and you’re welcome to come by tomorrow and discuss things further,” Sergeant Rill said firmly.

Ian felt Fiona’s hand grab hold of his forearm as if she could protect him from this. “You don’t need to take him into custody, please,” she begged, squeezing his arm desperately. “I just told you, he’s sick.”

The officers shared another look as Fiona looked on anxiously and Ian tried to suppress the bile rising in his throat.

“Very well,” Sergeant Rill begrudgingly agreed. “We’ll reconvene here, tomorrow at 2 pm. Mr. Gallagher, do you understand? You’ll need to be here tomorrow at that time. Needless to say, if you run you’ll be facing a lot more trouble than you already are.”

Ian lifted his head and gave a small nod. He avoided Rill’s face, instead glancing over at the third officer stationed just inside the front door. He looked like he was protecting the White House rather than blocking a teenager who could barely stand at the moment, let alone fight, from getting past him and making a run for it.

The next thing Ian knew, Fiona was walking the sergeants to the door and closing it behind them. She locked it with conviction and turned to press her back against it, sighing as she closed her eyes and threw her head back against the door with a dull thud.

“What’s getting some rest going to change?” Ian asked her, confident that the answer was nothing. “They’re still gonna arrest me.”

Fiona opened her eyes to look at him with determination. “Fuck rest, I need Lip.”

She pulled out her phone and paced the length of the couch as it rang, waiting anxiously for Lip to pick up.

“You should get some rest, though,” she said, pointing a finger at Ian. “You’re drained.”

He moved to push his hair out of his eyes, stopping when he noticed the shakiness of his hand. He held both hands out in front of him and scowled before balling them into tight fists, tucking them under his thighs.

“Hey,” Fiona said into the phone. “How fast can you get here tonight? We got a situation. Military police showed up trying to arrest Ian.”

Ian swallowed, grateful he couldn’t hear Lip’s side of the conversation.

“I know, fuck,” Fiona groaned. “No, I told them that. They’re comin’ back tomorrow afternoon.”

He swung his feet up onto the couch and rested his head on the opposite end, getting comfortable while Fiona got Lip up to speed. He glanced at the coffee table on his left, in search of something to quench his thirst, but there was nothing and the kitchen seemed miles away.

“Yeah, they said it didn’t matter since he still committed a crime.”

He dragged his tongue around his dry mouth and over his lips as he listened to Fiona’s huffs and sighs along with the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet. He tried to focus on those sounds rather than what she was saying, because right now the whole night felt something like a dream, and he wouldn’t mind if it stayed that way.

“I don’t know. I said we’d get the medical records to prove he’s bipolar.”

Ian closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, attempting to make his thoughts louder than Fiona’s voice, counting his inhales and exhales until he drifted off to sleep.

*

Mickey blinked up at the ceiling, still in bed despite not having slept more than an hour throughout the night, the sun now streaming in through the window not enough to coax him out of bed.

He was forced to move when his phone vibrated on the nightstand, and he hated himself for how quickly he snatched it, fumbling to see who the text was from. He fell lax when he saw Fiona’s name instead, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

_Where are you? MPs showed up last night, they’re meeting here this afternoon to talk. Can you come?_

Mickey’s body tensed as he read the text again, the news catching him completely off guard. He pushed the blankets off of himself and sat up, reading it once more before sending a quick response.

_Can’t_

He stared at the screen while he chewed his fingernails, preparing himself for Fiona’s response. It came only a few moments later.

_Can you try? I think he’s freaking out, could really use you here._

His sigh turned into a frustrated groan as he pressed his fingers into his eyelids, wanting nothing more than to be there with him and nothing less than to tell Fiona what had happened. He typed out a text but cleared it before sending, the phrase ‘we broke up’ not sitting well with him. He tried again, typing and deleting in a nervous frenzy before finally settling on a response.

_He ended it. With us._

Fiona’s text came back almost instantly.

_What????_

Mickey tossed his phone aside, not wanting to get any further into the topic. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stretched his back, ankles cracking as he touched his bare feet to the cold floor. He pushed himself off the bed and was about to exit the room when his phone vibrated again, and he didn’t have to look at the screen to know that it was Fiona calling.

“Hey,” he answered gruffly.

“He broke up with you?” Fiona asked incredulously, her sharp voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell? Did he go off his meds?”

“No. Still takin’ ‘em, far as I know.”

“Well, shit,” she breathed. “What the fuck?”

Mickey ran his tongue across his lower lip. “Look, he doesn’t want me around anymore, and he made it really fuckin’ clear. Anything else you wanna know, you should just talk to him.”

He pressed the button to end the call and his screen went back to their text conversation, his own words seeming to mock him.

_He ended it. With us._

Mickey turned the phone off and threw it onto the pillow, giving it a spiteful look before heading into the kitchen to find Svetlana straddling a backwards chair in front of Yevgeny, a yogurt cup in her hand.

She glanced up when he entered and he felt her hard stare boring into him, catching her brief glance of pity before she forced herself to look away. Mickey’s face burned with embarrassment, uncomfortable knowing what she’d witnessed the night before.

“Hey,” he grunted, acting casual as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open.

“Morning,” she replied, mirroring his nonchalance. “You feed Yevgeny while I shower?”

“He can’t feed himself yet?”

“He is still learning motor control. Food ends up all over face if you give him spoon.” She swung her leg over the chair and stood, handing the cup to Mickey before wandering down the hall.

He took Svetlana’s place in front of the high chair, setting his beer down on the tray and swirling the yogurt around with the spoon.

“Plain vanilla? Can’t we throw some chocolate chips or somethin’ in here?” He scooped some onto the spoon and held it to the infant’s mouth which he opened eagerly, scraping the yogurt off with his lips and smacking it loudly in his mouth.

Mickey offered another spoonful and Yevgeny took it, this time holding it in his mouth as he stared at Mickey thoughtfully. He then stuck his tongue out between his lips and blew raspberries, spitting the yogurt everywhere.

“Hey, kid.” Mickey chuckled, the heavy air around him dissipating for a moment. “You’re gonna make your ma think I don’t know how to feed you.”

Yevgeny took a breath and continued for a moment before stopping again to giggle, causing Mickey to smile despite himself.

“Oh, you tryin’ to be funny?” Mickey asked, raising his brows in amusement.

Yevgeny squealed in delight at the attention, slapping his palms on the tray of the high chair excitedly and babbling at Mickey.

“Yeah? I feel ya there, buddy.”

He fed him another spoonful and Yevgeny looked at him threateningly.

“Don’t do it,” Mickey said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Yevgeny smiled back and swallowed the yogurt without incident.

Mickey didn’t look up as Mandy strolled into the kitchen dressed head to toe in her Waffle Cottage uniform, complete with the squirrel sitting atop her head.

“Hey,” she droned, grabbing a loaf of bread and deli meat out of the fridge.

“You’re workin’ at the rodent shithole again today?” he asked her, spooning the last of the yogurt into Yevgeny’s mouth. “You got like sixty hours this week.”

“A girl’s cat died so she needed to take time off. It was like, two weeks ago. She’s still grieving.” Mandy slapped a piece of the processed turkey between two slices of bread and tucked it in a sandwich bag. “But whatever, more shifts for me. Gonna be there all day.”

“Good, we need the cash.” Mickey used Yevgeny’s bib to wipe the excess yogurt off the baby’s face. “Gave the last of mine to Svetlana to get the kid a coat.”

“Got any jobs lined up?” she wondered, stepping into Yevgeny’s view and prompting him to stretch his arms towards the squirrel hat, opening and closing his hands in request.

“Yeah, Iggy’s workin’ on it. Might have another big move to do soon, too.”

“In few months I will have surrogate money,” Svetlana announced as she re-entered with a towel wrapped around her body and another stacked on top of her head. “I go to get pregnant next week. Maybe we save up for new microwave. One that heats things.”

Mickey’s eyebrows lifted as he unhooked Yevgeny’s bib and used it to clean the baby’s hands. “Wouldn’t count on it. I gotta get Fiona some cash soon to cover Ian’s next refill.”

Unsettled by the sudden silence, he looked up to see both women staring at him.

“What?”

Mandy shared a look with Svetlana before speaking up. “You don’t have to pay them, ya know.”

“They can’t afford it.” Mickey squinted as he knitted his brow. “I’m not gonna let him stop buyin’ his meds. Doesn’t matter if we’re-” He paused, still finding it difficult to articulate. “Whatever, I still gotta help.”

“Your call.” Mandy shrugged, waving a hand behind her as she trudged past them. “Gotta go.”

Yevgeny let out a distressed whine as Mandy walked out, the squirrel hat disappearing from view. He squirmed in his seat, leaning over in an attempt to catch another glimpse of the stuffed animal.

“Hey, none of that,” Mickey said, snapping his fingers in front of Yevgeny’s face to get his attention. “That thing’s fuckin’ filthy anyway.”

He bounced Yevgeny’s foot in his hand and ran his thumb along the sole. The baby pulled his foot away at the sensation and began babbling again in a high-pitched tone.

“He likes you,” Svetlana said, observing the exchange.

Mickey looked up in surprise. “He don’t even know me,” he denied, eyes falling back to the infant.

“He will. You live together now, see him everyday. He is smart, fast learner, already calls me mama. You act like father, he will notice.” She moved closer to the pair, folding her arms in front of her chest. “You have him to provide for, remember. He deserves everything we can give him. Is not much, but we must try.”

Mickey pulled his lips into his mouth, feeling a hint of shame beneath his annoyance. “I gave you the money for a fuckin’ coat. Ian needs his meds, you saw what he’s like when he ain’t got ‘em.”

“I know,” she said, lifting Yevgeny out of his high chair and placing him on her hip. “Just keep baby in mind.”

To Mickey’s surprise, she left it at that, leaving him alone with the dead silence of the kitchen. He sucked down the remainder of his nearly full beer and sighed, crushing the can before getting up to grab another.

*

“Thanks, guys. Have a good one.”

Fiona smiled at her last table of the breakfast rush, holding the bills in her fist as she walked away. She typed the numbers into the cash register and put the money in the appropriate slots before shoving the drawer closed again.

She scanned the dining room and saw only two other tables occupied, neither of them hers. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she thumbed through her contacts to find the number she had inputted from Jasmine’s card, hitting the call button when she found it.

“Hollander, Jasmine speaking.”

Fiona sat back against the counter, tucking a few wisps of hair behind her ear. “Hey, Jasmine. It’s Fiona.”

“Fiona!” Jasmine said excitedly, her voice becoming more familiar. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for your call. Okay, I’m at the office, got my calendar all spread out in front of me. When are you free?”

Fiona raised a brow, cocking her head as she chuckled. “You know my life, I’m never really free.”

“Yeah, I know how that goes,” Jasmine empathized. “If it’s not one thing, it’s something else.”

“Well, for this I’ll make time. Whenever you need me.”

“I’m thinking the sooner the better.” Jasmine paused, and Fiona listened as she muttered under her breath. “How does tomorrow sound? I’d wait ‘til Monday, but I was really hoping to have a decision made by the end of the weekend. Do you have to work?”

Fiona brought a hand up to her forehead, closing her eyes as she tried to recall her schedule. “Uh, no actually. I’m off.”

“Perfect, I’m free in the morning. How’s 9 sound?”

Fiona smiled in excitement. “Yeah, okay. Sounds great.”

“Fantastic.” Fiona heard the click clack of typing as Jasmine recorded the appointment. “I’ll text you the address.”

She rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. “Thanks again, Jasmine. This means a lot to me.”

“Seriously, Fiona, it’s no problem,” Jasmine assured her, sounding genuine. “I’m excited; I think you’ll be a good fit here.”

“Hope so. I’ll see ya then.”

Fiona let her hand drop to her side as she zoned out, biting her lip as she smiled to herself. She exhaled in a quick huff, trying not to let her hopes get too high.

A moment later her phone was vibrating in her hand. She glanced down to see a text from Jasmine, her eyes widening when she saw the address of her office.

“Shit,” she muttered, impressed.

“Shit what?” Sean asked, stacking a pile of clean plates under the counter.

Jackie joined them, placing a ticket in the window and leaning over to eye Fiona’s phone. “Yeah, shit what?”

“I got a job interview tomorrow.” Fiona handed the phone to Jackie, showing her the address Jasmine had texted her. “Girl I know opened up her own business. I thought it might be a bust, but I don’t think she could afford a place in that neck of the woods if she wasn’t makin’ some decent cash.”

“Hell yeah.” Jackie bumped her shoulder against Fiona’s as she tossed the phone back to her. “Fiona the business woman, mingling with the upper class.”

Sean nodded, a piece of hair falling in front of his face. “Congrats.”

“Don’t have the job yet. Still gotta get through the interview.”

“Well, good luck then,” he amended.

Jackie lifted her chin, looking past Fiona when the bell over the door jingled. “And if it doesn’t work out, at least you know you can always count on the big tipper.”

Fiona followed Jackie’s gaze, turning her head to glance at the door. Angela stood just inside it, her arms crossed over her chest, a stony expression on her face.

“Hey, Angela.” Fiona approached her, greeting her with a wide grin. “You can sit wherever, I’ll grab you a coffee.”

Angela adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder, not returning the smile. “Actually, I was hoping we could go outside.”

Fiona wrinkled her forehead, the corners of her mouth still upturned. “For what?”

“We need to talk.”

Fiona’s friendly demeanor faded as apprehension crept into its place. “Everything okay?”

“Listen, I want you to know that I really like you. I’ve never been anything but genuine.” Angela met her eyes, her serious expression unsettling. “I don’t want you to feel lied to.”

She chuckled nervously. “Angela, what’s goin’ on?”

“Break time?”

Fiona threw a look over her shoulder to where Sean was watching from behind the counter. “Sean, I’m takin’ a few minutes.”

He shrugged dismissively. “Your section doesn’t get seated until you get back.”

Fiona nodded. “I’ll be quick.”

Angela led the way out the door, rounding the corner to the side of the building. Fiona followed, her brow knitted in confusion until she saw who was waiting there.

“What the fuck?” She stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open.

Jimmy offered her a small smile. “Hey, Fiona.”

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” She turned to Angela, the dots connecting rapidly in her head. “You’re with him? You been _spyin’_ on me for him?”

“Not spying,” Angela said calmly, standing tall. “And I’m not _with_ him. Jack’s my partner.”

“ _Jack_?” Fiona echoed, her head spinning. “Jesus.”

Jimmy took a step toward Fiona, reaching out a hand toward her arm, but Fiona recoiled. “We’re business partners. I asked her to check in, keep tabs on you.”

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’ll give you two some time,” Angela cut in. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

Fiona watched as Angela walked away, her heels clicking against the sidewalk until she vanished down the street. Fiona turned back to Jimmy, her mouth still agape and eyes wide.

“So she was givin’ me your money,” she observed, finally able to articulate a thought.

“Would you have taken it if you’d known it was from me? I wanted to make sure you guys were okay.”

Fiona planted her hands on her hips. “Where the hell have you been?”

Jimmy looked away, lifting a shoulder and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was incommunicado for awhile.”

“Where?” She snorted, raising her eyebrows. “The fuckin’ Bahamas? Off on a cruise?”

“No, actually, courtesy of my father-in-law, I was handcuffed to a pipe in the boiler room of a yacht for months, shitting in a bucket.” He threw his hands around as he spoke, his expression humorless. “Not quite as glamorous as a Carnival cruise ship. Maybe it was the smell.”

“You were on a boat,” she echoed in disbelief. “The whole time?”

“For awhile, yeah, and then it was slave labor in a Brazilian cocoa processing facility. Not much of a facility really, just some tents in the rainforest. So not quite the Bahamas either, no.” He paced in front of her, bringing a hand up to push his hair back. “Then I caught malaria and the life was slowly leaving my eyes. Not that I could tell, because they didn’t have mirrors in the rainforest, but I could feel it. So I escaped into the jungle when the DEA showed up.”

Fiona rolled her eyes, smiling incredulously. “You’re a fuckin’ liar.”

“God’s honest truth, I swear.”

“And then what?” she prodded, angry with herself for taking the bait.

“And then I came back. Got back on my feet, got some things going. Business things. Started making some money, met Angela, and here we are.”

Fiona laughed, smoothing her hands over her hair. “God, I cannot fucking believe this.”

Jimmy paused, watching Fiona intently. “So what now?”

“What do you mean, what now?” She looked at him wildly, the question leaving her dumbfounded. “You got a U-Haul parked around the corner, ready to move your shit back into my house?”

He gave a casual shrug. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“What does that matter?” she shouted. “I thought you died. Or fled the country. Or- Jesus, I thought you left me.” Her hands found his chest and gave him a forceful shove. Tears prickled her eyes, her anger searching for an outlet. “You did leave me. Without a goddamn word. Was I just supposed to wait around for you? Not havin’ any fuckin’ clue where you went or if you’d be back?”

“I didn’t leave you,” he said quietly, his voice calm. “Not by choice. I wouldn’t do that. Just disappear without a word, leaving you to wonder what happened. Even I’m not that much of a dick.”

Fiona lingered for a moment, dragging her tongue across her lips. She shifted her weight and crossed her arms as she stared him down.

“How long you been back?”

“That’s a more complicated question,” Jimmy said cautiously, dragging out the words.

Fiona laughed dryly. “I don’t even wanna know.”

“I was on the boat for about a month, in Brazil for about four.”

She stared at the ground as she calculated over and over in her head, not believing what she was coming up with. “So you’ve been back since, what, May? Jesus Christ.”

Jimmy nodded, his gaze drifting upward. “I had some things going on that I didn’t want to drag you into. But I’m back now.” He moved toward her, reaching out to wrap his fingers gently around her wrist. “I never wanted us to end, Fiona.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you were real torn up about it for the five fuckin’ months you’ve been back.” She swiftly pulled her arm out of his grasp and backed away. “I’m sure you felt real guilty about leavin’ me to wonder where you went. So guilty that you didn’t have the decency to call me as soon as you got the chance to let me know what the hell happened.”

“You’d moved on. I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“And now?”

Jimmy stepped forward again, challenging her to move away, but she stayed put. “I couldn’t resist anymore.”

Fiona studied his face, the seriousness of it making her breath catch in her throat. She stood inches away from him while he waited for her to make the next move. The close proximity felt so foreign yet so familiar, and she was hit with a wave of memories; old feelings washing over her so suddenly it made her feel sick.

“I don’t have time for this. I gotta get back to work.” She turned her back to him, her face remaining stoic as she was overcome with emotion.

“I’ll be stalking you from the shop across the street if you need me.”

Fiona shook her head, refusing to turn around as she made her way back to the diner, feeling like her world had been turned upside down.

*

Lip sighed as he scrolled through the search results, choosing a website that sounded promising and then cursing in frustration when it turned out to be unhelpful. He glanced over at Liam sprawled out beside him, fast asleep, before turning back to the laptop and scrubbing a hand over his face.

He clicked another link and furrowed his brow when the screen froze, flashing to black and then back to Google. He scrubbed his finger over the finger pad and pressed a few keys, but no luck.

His frustrated huff was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the bed next to him, Amanda’s picture appearing on the screen.

“Hey,” Lip answered, setting the laptop to the side as he bent one of his knees. “You done with your group thing already?”

“Yeah, I took charge, assigned each of them a job and told them to email me a progress report by Wednesday so I can see just how incompetent they are. One kid tried to pawn the whole thing off on me.”

Lip smirked. “And I’m guessing you didn’t clue him into the fact that you’re going to force them all to do a shit ton of work and then end up handing in something purely of your own creation anyway?”

“If my free time is going to be eaten up by this project, so is theirs,” Amanda said, her signature attitude coming across even through the phone. “Whether I use their work or not.”

“Because you don’t want them to miss out on their education.”

“Oh, right,” she corrected with sarcasm. “That’s what I meant. Learning for all.” She paused, and Lip could sense the shift to trepidation. “Speaking of missing out on education, how goes the fascinating research on mass transfer?”

Lip rubbed at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not.”

“It almost feels like you don’t appreciate the schedule I so diligently provided you with. You know there’s a scheduled time in my planner that says ‘make Lip’s schedule’? Think of the things I could be doing instead. Painting the next Mona Lisa, writing a book, masturbating-”

“Yeah, well, when you were making my schedule you forgot to block off six hours for finding a loophole in the Army’s penal code,” he retorted, his temper already short from stress and lack of sleep.

“Okay, fair enough. So how goes the fascinating research into the United States military?”

Lip looked at the computer to his right, still frozen on the page of search results. “Not great.”

“What aspect are you gonna play up? Underage? Mental illness?”

“I don’t know. Seems unlikely that I’ll get them to admit they did anything wrong. As far as they knew, Phillip Gallagher was enlisting, who wasn’t underage or mentally ill.”

“But isn’t it their fault for letting it happen?”

Lip stared blankly at the wall as he considered where the blame fell, the guilt digging into his thoughts.

“Yeah, it is,” he said finally, pushing away the regrets. “But I’m not sure it matters.”

“Okay, so maybe throw out the underage thing. What about bipolar? How did they know Phillip Gallagher had a clean bill of health?”

“They’re supposed to look at medical records to see if there’s a history of mental illness. Whether they did or didn’t, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because they would’ve been looking at my medical records anyway.” He stretched his legs out and let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closing as he felt the threat of a headache start to pound its way in. “I just keep going in fucking circles.”

“Well,” Amanda said, dragging the word out, hesitating before she finished her sentence. “I can think of something much more productive that you could be doing.”

He sunk his teeth into the skin of his lower lip, suppressing a groan. “I’m trying to find a way to keep my brother from going to prison.”

“And there’s nothing to be found, you said it yourself.”

“Doesn’t mean I can stop looking.”

“So take a break and catch up on some homework.” She sighed, letting Lip know she wasn’t finished. “If you’re not there, someone else will deal with it. If you’re not here, no one else is going to go to your classes or take your exams or do your work. You have your midterm project due in a couple days, and you haven’t even started. Stop being a hero and worry about your own shit for once.”

“They can’t deal with it if I’m not here. That’s kind of the whole issue.” He flexed his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he tried not to snap at her, knowing it would only make things worse. “I should go. Maybe I’ll figure something out and still have time to work on my project.”

Amanda scoffed. “Sure,” she said quietly, sounding defeated. Lip could practically see her shaking her head, mouth pulled tightly into a thin line. “I know you want to help your family, but you can’t throw away your shot at something better. I’m trying to help you.”

“Well, don’t,” Lip spat. “I gotta go.”

He quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and ended the call before she could protest.

“Fuck,” he huffed under his breath, shooting a glance at the frozen laptop that seemed to be taunting him. He snapped it shut loudly, resisting the urge to kick it off the bed for good measure.

Lip closed his eyes and lifted the phone to his forehead, pressing the edge of it into his skin. He opened them again when he felt movement on the bed next to him as Liam began to stir.

“Hey, buddy. You enjoy your nap?”

Liam rubbed his knuckles over his eyes, blinking widely. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was just resting my eyes.”

“Ah, right. You’re a big five year old now. Too big for naps.”

Liam sat up, mimicking Lip’s position as he leaned against the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles.

“At school we’re supposed to take naps, but I just pretend.”

Lip smiled, pulling his brother into his lap. “So how’s it feel being five?”

Liam shrugged a shoulder. “Pretty cool. Fi packs me two snacks for school now. ‘Cause I’m a growin’ boy.”

“Yeah, maybe you’ll be as big as me soon.”

“Bigger!” Liam exclaimed, bouncing in Lip’s lap.

Lip chuckled, swallowing the lump in his throat as his grin faded. “Hey, listen. I’m sorry I didn’t make it home for your birthday.”

“You didn’t get any cake. Debbie made cherry chip.”

“Yeah, I know.” His gaze fell to Liam’s shirt as he ran a finger over the faded image of Woody and Buzz, remembering Carl wearing the same t-shirt not so long ago. “I’m really bummed I missed that. Think you can forgive me?”

Liam pursed his lips and tapped a finger against his chin, putting on a show as he mulled it over. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Lip’s eyes widened at the innocent request. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Then I forgive you.”

“But you know you’ll have to sleep by yourself when I go back to school, right?”

Liam looked away, his face falling. Lip watched him anxiously, but Liam bounced off the bed with enthusiasm.

“I’m hungry,” he said, ignoring Lip’s question. “Can you make me some lunch, please?”

“Yeah.” Lip nodded, his stomach sinking. “Let’s go.”

*

Ian watched a droplet of water fall from his hair onto the table. He wiped it away with his arm and two more fell, creating a small puddle. Lip was oblivious beside him, the bright screen of the laptop illuminating his face as he spent every last second hatching a plan.

“You wanna blow dry that mop?” Fiona asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Ian shrugged, slicking his hair back and wiping his wet palms on his jeans. “At least I showered.”

She tilted her head in agreement, glancing down at her watch. “Carl should be at his first day of community service about now. Wonder how that’s goin’.”

“I’m sure he’s making tons of friends,” Lip quipped. “Why isn’t Debs home from school yet?”

“She went shoppin’ with Svetlana. Somethin’ about Svetlana needing boring, parent-friendly clothes. Speakin’ of the Milkovich clan,” she segued, hiding her face behind the rim of her mug as she looked at Ian with concern. “You okay?”

Ian’s head snapped up in surprise and he caught his sister’s knowing look. He stuck his jaw out, tempted to chastise her for meddling, but thinking better of it.

“One life-changing disaster at a time.”

Fiona smiled sympathetically, freezing when there was a knock at the door.

“That’s them,” she said, raising her eyebrows at Lip. “You ready?”

“Let’s give it a shot.”

He closed the laptop and got up to set it next to the stove. Ian took notice of his put together outfit: a blue collared shirt underneath a gray sweater over khaki pants, compared to Ian’s dirty jeans and tattered t-shirt.

“Let me do the talking.” Lip smirked. “Fiona said that pisses them off.”

Ian took a deep breath and nodded. “I got nothin’ to say to them anyway.”

They turned their attention to the two men following Fiona into the kitchen, both displaying stern looks and wrinkled foreheads as they locked eyes on Ian.

“Mr. Gallagher,” Sergeant Rill greeted.

Ian offered a nod in return. “Sergeants.”

“Uh, hi, I’m Phillip Gallagher.” Lip slid in front of the officers, extending his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, the real one.” Sergeant Rill accepted the handshake as he looked Lip up and down. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Yeah, bet my name’s pretty famous in your circle, huh? Hey, by the way, if I’m on like a list of people never allowed back, no worries. I got no plans.”

“Don’t have the aspirations of your younger brother?” Sergeant Rill raised a judgmental brow. “Ambition isn’t a common trait.”

“Yeah, you know, just a poor kid slummin’ it, that’s all I’ll ever be. Not too bright.” He gestured toward the chairs as he made his way around to the other side of the table. “Have a seat.”

The officers obliged, sitting across from Ian as Lip sat on his right and Fiona on his left, both of their shoulders rubbing against his own. Ian sat back, allowing them to be in the forefront as he listened, his heart racing. He glanced at the watch on Lip’s wrist, praying that it would be over soon.

“Okay,” Lip said, clapping his hands together. “You mind catching me up to speed here? Because my sister seems to be under the impression that you’re going to arrest Ian. But I told her she must’ve gotten something mixed up because that doesn’t make sense to me.”

Sergeant Howard furrowed his brow. “And why not?”

“Well, the publicity, for one. There is such a thing as bad publicity, especially when you’re part of the federal government.” Lip stuck his fingertips in his pockets and slouched, shrugging casually. “People learn the U.S. military is taking a mentally ill kid to trial for experiencing symptoms of his mental illness, you’ll be up to your ears in controversy. I’d kind of like to see it, honestly. Just not at my brother’s expense.”

“Whether or not his illness is to blame is something to be determined during the trial.”

"After the fact,” Lip pointed out. “Band-Aids instead of preventative measures.”

“We have preventative measures in place,” Sergeant Rill retorted.

“Yeah, I read up on that. When someone enlists, their medical records are supposed to be reviewed for red flags. Anything that could suggest they’re not fit for the military."

"Yes, and Phillip Gallagher's medical records were reviewed.” Sergeant Rill jutted a finger out to clarify. “Yours, not his."

"But the thing is, and this is what I’m hung up on, even if you had looked at Ian's, you wouldn't have seen anything suggesting he was bipolar."

Sergeant Rill frowned in confusion. "Are you trying to help us or your brother? I think you're confused."

"How many other people have you let in because you didn't see any history of mental illness? Bipolar can start showing symptoms as late as mid-twenties, and the vast majority of people who have any kind of mental illness are never treated or hospitalized regardless. So you would have no idea.”

Ian watched Lip as he spoke assertively, brazen confidence hiding a nervousness that only Ian could see.

“How many people have you fucked over because you don't have a screening process for mental health?” Lip continued, keeping a level head as he tore into them. “How many more helicopter crashes will happen because you guys don't give a shit? And speaking of that, the helicopter incident hasn't been made known to the public at all. Because you knew once people found out the truth, the blame would fall on you.”

Sergeant Howard shook his head. “There’s no reason for the general public to be privy to that information.”

“Or maybe you don’t want people to know, ‘cause they might ask questions. Might wonder what kind of liability you guys have for letting a mentally ill teenager near equipment like that.” Lip raised a brow as both officers shifted uncomfortably across from him. “Look, the bottom line is you should’ve caught on sooner. You should’ve realized he wasn’t who he said he was, you should’ve recognized that he wasn’t behaving normally, you should’ve done your jobs better. Any way you spin it, you’re the bad guys. And this is one tiny little case that means nothing in the grand scheme of things, so why you’d want to cause such an uproar over something as insignificant as this is beyond me.”

Ian sunk further into the background, almost curling in on himself as he brought his chin to his chest. He was sure in the silence they’d all now remembered he was there, more than just a topic of a conversation or an elusive soldier they referred to. More than the ghost of someone he used to be.

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Sergeant Rill asked as he reached for his phone, both officers backing away from the table and headed into the living room.

Fiona draped herself across the table once they were out of earshot, leaning in front of Ian to address Lip.

“When you said you had a plan I thought you meant something solid,” she said in a harsh whisper. “As in ‘they can’t legally do this’ solid.”

“Yeah, didn’t find anything like that. Had to work with what little I had. I kind of think I nailed it though, right?”

“Well, you convinced me but that’s not really an accomplishment.”

“They made up their minds before they got here,” Ian chimed in, soliciting surprised looks from both of his siblings. “Nothing’s gonna change that.” He shrugged, trying to portray indifference but unable to mask his fear.

The three of them looked up when they heard boots treading toward them, the officers standing tall in the doorway.

“After consultation with the prosecutor of the case, we’ve decided it would be in the best interest of both parties to drop the charges,” Sergeant Rill revealed as he adjusted the hat on his head, still talking more to Lip and Fiona than to Ian. “It seems there was no malicious intent here, and putting your brother through a trial when he’s ill would be...unseemly. However, Mr. Gallagher-you will be barred from ever serving in the Armed Forces.”

Ian swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes burning and his vision becoming blurred as he blinked away the tears.

“Oh god, that’s great,” he heard Fiona say next to him as she stood. “Thank you so much. You hear that, Ian?”

He sealed his lips tightly together and nodded as he stared at the wall in front of him. He saw her wide grin out of the corner of his eye, her eyes glassy as well, but not for the same reason.

He pushed the chair away from the table and hurried past them, taking the stairs two at a time. He slammed his bedroom door closed behind him and collapsed onto the bed, the sobs coming harder when he breathed in the familiar smell.

Ian buried his face in the pillow, quickly soaking it with his tears and his damp hair. The material scratched against his face but he only pulled it closer, clinging to it as he cried. He tried to catch his breath when he heard the door creak open behind him.

"Is this an invite only pity party?"

"Just leave me alone." Ian sniffled, wiping his dripping nose with the back of his hand.

"No can do.” Lip shut the door and took a seat at the foot of the bed. “Letting you mope alone isn’t in my job description.”

“I'm not supposed to be moping, right? I’m supposed to be happy?”

“You’re not _supposed_ to be anything, Ian.”

Ian scoffed, shoving down the rest of his sobs. “Yeah, right.”

“Man, I’d be worried if you weren’t upset.” Ian felt the weight on the bed shift as Lip crawled backwards over Ian’s outstretched legs to sit against the wall. “I know how much it hurts."

“You know what it’s like to throw everything away because of a severe case of fucked in the head?” Ian mumbled into the pillow.

“Not exactly. But it’s a short road between sympathy and empathy.”

Ian pushed himself up, joining Lip against the wall as he used his wrists to scrub away his tears. He paused for a moment, not sure he was ready to admit this wasn’t simply a bad dream.

“It’s just all I ever saw for myself,” he confessed after a beat, his voice full of defeat. “It’s the only future I ever thought about.”

“Well, what did you see yourself doing after that? Teaching kindergarteners, driving a garbage truck?”

Ian lifted a shoulder as he shook his head. “There was nothing past that. Nothing else.”

“You planned on dying out there?” Lip pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and offering it to Ian before lighting another for himself. “That’s morbid.”

“No. I just- that’s all I ever needed. Didn’t matter what came after. I didn’t think I’d ever need a backup.” He tugged mindlessly at a piece of loose skin on his cuticle, a knot forming in his stomach. “I never fucking wanted one.”

“I know you planned on puttin’ in like forty plus years in the fucking army, but you’ll find something that makes you happy again. Maybe not now, not this week or this month, but eventually.”

“Yeah? Like Fiona? No, she works shit jobs to make ends meet.” He huffed a humorless laugh, a blush of shame and embarrassment creeping up his neck. “This was the one thing I could do, the one thing I was good at and I wanted to do that didn’t require a fifty thousand dollar education. It was attainable. It was right there in front of me.”

“I know.”

Ian quirked a brow when Lip didn’t elaborate. “You fall off your soapbox?”

“It sucks, Ian. It does. And I’m not gonna pretend that you shouldn’t be upset or that it was for the best. Be pissed, be sad, whatever. Just as long as you're not doin’ it alone, ya know?” He thumbed at the cigarette between his fingers, a somber expression falling over him. “You shouldn’t have to go through any of this shit by yourself.”

Ian chewed at his lip as they both looked down, knowing that their minds went to the same place. He took his first drag off the cigarette that was slowly burning in his hand and blew the smoke high into the air, not wanting to mask the scent of the sheets.

“We talking about that yet?” Lip asked.

Ian considered it, feeling his eyes prickle just at the thought.

“Not yet,” he told his brother. He heaved a deep sigh, taking another long drag and letting the smoke hover in his lungs before slowly letting it out. “I’ll let you know.”

*

Mickey took one last swallow from his beer can, crushing it between his palms once he was sure it was empty. He tossed it onto the coffee table, reaching for the half empty bottle of vodka next to his feet. He took a long swig as he settled back into the couch cushions, rubbing a hand over his bleary eyes. Glancing over at his cell phone, he fought the urge to grab it, knowing that it would only lead to him doing something stupid. He was saved from himself by a knock at the door, followed by the sound of it pushing slowly open.

“Hello! Mickey?” Mickey twisted his head around to see Carl poking his head through the crack in the door. He sighed loudly, turning back to take another long gulp of vodka from the bottle.

“What are you doing here?” Carl continued, stepping inside and walking over to stand in front of him, pulling his coat from his shoulders and tossing it aside carelessly.

“I live here,” Mickey replied, keeping his eyes fixed on his lap.

Carl snorted. “Since when? I noticed you weren’t home this morning, but I figured you had a job or something.”

“Or somethin’.” Mickey stood on shaky legs, pausing for a moment to find his equilibrium before gently pushing Carl aside and heading for the kitchen. “Want a beer?”

“Sure.” Carl sprawled out on the couch, kicking his feet up and frowning when he accidentally knocked over a pile of crushed cans. “Finished up community service for the day, so it’s all good.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey tossed him a can as he settled on the other side of the couch. “What they got you doin’?”

“Stupid shit like pickin’ up trash,” Carl replied, popping the top on his beer. “My P.O. says I’m supposed to learn some valuable lessons from hard work or whatever, but all I’m really learning is the most common cigarette brands in the neighborhood and how many people are too lazy to toss their used condoms in a trash can.”

Mickey laughed, scratching a hand through his hair. “Yeah, been there.”

Carl looked over at him curiously. “You ever have trouble with anyone when you were on a crew?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “Punk bitches know better than to start shit with a Milkovich. Why, someone hasslin’ you?”

Carl shrugged. “Nothin’ big, but a few people ran their mouths. G-Dogg’s guys hate me ‘cause they don’t think I ever shoulda been workin’ for him at all and now I’m out. Bunch of his other guys have served time.”

“Pays to be white in this neighborhood,” Mickey acknowledged, tapping his can against Carl’s. “You good with it? Bein’ done with him, I mean.”

“Yeah, think so.” Carl shrugged, taking a sip of his own drink. “Just glad he let me out after you and Fi got him the rest of the stuff back, no more hassle. Maybe he was sick of the trouble, too.”

Mickey nodded. “Probably.”

Carl skimmed his hand over the couch cushions, pausing to rub at a stain near one of the seams. “Everyone else wants to mess with me because I used to run with his crew, think it’ll make ‘em look tough or something.”

Mickey noticed the way Carl smiled slightly at that, chuckling to himself. “Think you’re a little badass, huh?”

Carl’s smile dropped. “Well, maybe they used to think so, probably not anymore. All I did was pick up people’s trash and try to stay quiet. Think people are gettin’ braver now that everyone knows me and G-Dogg are done.”

“Tell you what,” Mickey said, pausing to take a long drink from his can. “Next time someone tries to start shit, scare ‘em good. Do it in front of other people. Somethin’ real dramatic and crazy, play up that sociopath bit. It’ll shut ‘em the fuck up.”

Carl raised an eyebrow. “Really? What, like tell ‘em I’m gonna burn down their house or something?”

Mickey shrugged. “Sure. Maybe tell ‘em some stories about your old hobbies. I know you like burnin’ and breakin’ shit, Ian’s told me-” Mickey paused, swallowing hard as his eyes burned.

“Mickey?”

Mickey shook his head, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. “Like I said, you like to destroy shit, right? So make sure they know it too. They’ll back off. Just don’t do it in front of the officers, don’t want your hours gettin’ extended.”

“Right.” Carl turned to look at him more closely. Mickey shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, bracing himself for questions he didn’t want to answer.

“What’s going on?” Carl asked right on cue.

Mickey affected a look of confusion. “With what?”

“Why are you here?” Carl continued doggedly. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening, but I know some Army guys were at the house last night and something’s going down with Ian. And you’re here instead of with him, and you look like shit and you’ve obviously been drinking all day.”

“Think you’re a fuckin’ detective, huh?” Mickey stood from the couch, downing the last of the beer from his can in one long swallow. He burped loudly as he tossed it onto the pile. “Guess I should start callin’ you Sherlock.”

“Mickey.” Carl’s voice was growing impatient. He leaned forward to stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself.

Mickey shook his head as he released a heavy sigh. “Not my place to be there, he doesn’t want me to.”

“Why the hell not?” Carl asked indignantly.

“Because he ended it,” Mickey snapped.

“Oh.” Carl’s face went through a series of emotions before settling on sadness, and what looked uncomfortably close to pity. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck off, we’re not havin’ a talk about my girly feelings.” Mickey ran a hand through his hair as he threw himself back on the couch, reaching for the vodka bottle again and taking a big gulp. “You should head home anyway, see what’s goin’ on.”

Carl eyed him closely, finishing his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table before standing. “He’ll change his mind.”

Mickey just raised an eyebrow, no words needed to communicate his doubt.

“He will,” Carl repeated confidently. “He’s all messed up right now, feelin’ like shit. Ian doesn’t like it when he can’t control things.”

Mickey laughed sardonically. “Detective _and_ shrink, huh?”

Carl shrugged. “Lived with him my whole life. He’s stubborn as fuck. But he’ll realize soon.”

“Realize what?” Mickey asked, wanting to kick himself as soon as the words escaped his lips.

Carl bent down to grab his coat, pulling it on before stepping around to the side of the couch and placing his hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “That everything sucks a lot more when you’re not there.”

Mickey swallowed against the lump in his throat as Carl headed for the door without another word. He twisted his hands around the neck of the bottle, tightening them until he thought the glass might shatter under his hands. He slumped further into the couch as the door slammed shut, leaving him alone.

*

Lip took the last drag of his cigarette and tossed it aside, into the overgrown grass that surrounded the front porch. He leaned a shoulder against the railing as he sat on the top step, the sun beating down on him from the cloudless sky. The warmth of the sun was offset by the frigid air, leaving goosebumps over his bare arms.

He was in a daze, watching the crisp leaves swirl across the pavement when a car pulled up, the sound of the engine being turned off getting Lip’s attention. He looked up to see Amanda rounding the car and grabbing a backpack out of the backseat before entering the yard.

“Hey,” he greeted her, dragging the word out like a question. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just saving your ass, as I do occasionally.” She slipped a thumb under the strap slung over her shoulder and looked up at him from the pavement below. “I brought you my laptop, your books, and some research materials that might be enough to help you get a C, which is probably the best we can hope for with the timeframe we have to work with.”

“The best _we_ can hope for?”

“I’m here to help, asshole,” Amanda replied, catching the word Lip was hung up on. “I know, I know. What would you do without me, I’m a true hero, et cetera. You can thank me later when we’re in a bedroom that actually has a door on it.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Lip moved his feet up a step, resting his forearms on his knees. “I thought this was my grade we’re talking about. Ya know, _my_ responsibility? Last I checked, whether I get an A or an F doesn’t actually affect you at all.”

Amanda glowered at him. “It’s called caring. Benevolence? Altruism? All fairly foreign terms to you, I’m sure, so I’ll let your ignorance slide.”

Lip gazed into the distance as she climbed the stairs, feeling his frustration mount as he neared a breaking point. “I told you to stay out of it, alright?” he said as he stood. He spoke calmly but firmly, biting down on each sharp letter.

Amanda paused when she stepped onto the landing of the porch, exhaling sharply as she stared at the front door before turning to Lip. “Why are you pushing me away?”

“I’m not pushing you away, Jesus Christ.” Lip scowled, glaring at her before shifting his gaze to the ground and clenching his fists. “Everything is not about you.”

He turned his back to her, curling his fingers over the wooden railing and letting his eyes wander down the empty street.

“You are. You’re pushing me away, and you're giving up on school.”

Lip spun around abruptly, his brow furrowed at her ignorance. “There are more important things than fucking midterm projects!”

A trace of a smile played on her lips, her placid demeanor furthering Lip’s anger. He brought a hand up to rub at his jaw as he paced the short length of the porch.

“Things were good,” Amanda said quietly. She shook her head as she looked up at him, her fingers gripping the strap of the bag tightly. “We were good, you were killing it in all your classes. And now you’re just going to ruin all that? Why? Because you’re scared of leaving your family?”

“I’m ruining _all_ that, huh? So, what, you’re saying you’re gonna leave if I don’t go back? Because I only work as a boyfriend if it looks like I might actually make myself worth something, right?” He nodded, pouting his lips as he scratched at the back of his neck. “Makes sense.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit around and watch you give it all up.”

“Fine. No one’s making you stay. In fact, for the millionth fucking time, I didn’t ask for your help.”

Lip planted his palms on the railing behind him, lifting himself to sit on the narrow beam. He wordlessly dug the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulled one out, placing it between his lips and cupping his hand over the flame as he inhaled. His limbs relaxed as he let the smoke escape his lungs, his cold glare never leaving her face as he waited for her to go.

Amanda rolled her eyes at his complacency. “Do you get how many people would kill to be as smart as you? To be given the opportunities you have? Think of all the people in this neighborhood who would give anything for that out.” Lip raised a bored eyebrow and Amanda laughed in annoyance. “And your family, the people you’re supposedly throwing it away for? You really think that’s what they want? They envy you, Lip. They’re proud of you, but they wish they were in your place.”

She sauntered over to him, covering the short distance slowly, stopping when she was an inch away from getting a knee to the rib. Lip took another drag from his cigarette and clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose as he looked down at her.

“But they’re not,” she continued, looking him straight in the eye. “You’re the born genius, you’re the one who has the world at his feet. And it’s not fair to them that you’re not going to take advantage of it. It’s a dick move.”

“I think I’ve seen this movie. I’m Matt Damon, you’re… Ben Affleck or Robin Williams?”

Amanda cocked her head. “You don’t have to be here. And deep down, past the self-sabotaging bullshit and blatant fear of succeeding, you know that.”

Lip sighed, hopping off the banister and brushing past Amanda. “I don’t want to do this. I’m not going to have this conversation. I’ll turn the project in late, knock a couple points off.”

“I checked your syllabus, Barton doesn’t accept any late work. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Lip threw out his arms in exasperation. “I’ll talk to him.” He rested his back against the front door, eager to make an escape but not yet ready to face the headaches waiting for him inside.

Amanda narrowed her eyes, shifting her weight as she adjusted the heavy bag on her back. “Not every professor is going to cut you slack because you’re from the slums of Chicago. You’ve known about this project for weeks, even if Barton wasn’t a hardass he still wouldn’t take your half-baked excuse.”

“Look, I can’t just up and leave, okay?” He turned the pack of cigarettes over in his hand, his thumb nail scratching at the corners of the box. “That was a nice speech, but I think you missed the whole goddamn point. It’s not as simple as me packing up my shit and never looking back.”

“I know that. I know what your family means to you and I know you’ll never be fully out of this. But you’re trying to be fully in it and it’s not working. This isn’t your life anymore. It can’t be. And it’s not fair-”

“Not fair to them?” Lip asked, gesturing toward the house behind him. “How fair is it that this is all on me? How fair is it that for as long as I can remember people have been telling me that I’m their only shot? Everything’s riding on me because I’m the smart one. It’s a fucking burden, so don’t give me shit about what’s fair.”

Amanda furrowed her brow, peering at Lip as she pulled at the knit hat on her head. “Oh, boo hoo. We all have our problems. Suck it up and in a few years you can cry about it into your piles of money while knowing that your family doesn’t have to worry about their water getting shut off.”

“So I have an obligation, even if I don’t want to do it? Even if I don’t want that life? Yeah, nice, because everyone should do everything out of guilt,” he said sarcastically, letting his eyes travel away from Amanda and onto the glow of the setting sun.

“Give me a break. Like I don’t see how much you love it. Talking shop with my dad, the whole idea that it represents. You were eating it up.” Her expression softened a bit as she paused. “You even like school. Or you like learning, at least. I’ve been right here the whole time, you can’t fool me into thinking I just imagined any of that.”

Lip brought an arm across his chest to scratch at his shoulder, appearing calm as his heart pounded in his throat. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t fucking matter if I love it or not. I’m not going to disappear from this life. I’m not going to abandon my family. And if I can’t do both, if I can’t have both, then oh well.” He shrugged, his carefree frown acting as a convincing cover. “That’s life. I’m used to being dealt a shit hand.”

“Oh my god.” Amanda chuckled dryly, baring her teeth as she shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. You are a pathetic, cowardly, lying piece of shit.”

“And you’re an entitled, spoiled, rich little brat who has never had to face a real hardship in her entire life,” he exclaimed, his fingers curling in as his body tensed. “You don’t get this. This isn’t my mom flying me to Miami for the weekend because she can’t decide which hardwood floor goes best with the new marble countertops. This is actual shit that affects people’s lives.”

He licked his lips, breaking the intense eye contact and letting out a huff. Feeling suddenly claustrophobic on the small porch, he shuffled down the steps into the open air, moving to the corner of the fence as he pulled the last cigarette out of his pack.

It was a moment before Amanda joined him and laid her forearms over the fence as she focused her gaze in front of her. "What are you doing? Attacking me, crying about how hard your life is. It’s not you. What the hell is going on?" She shook her head, eyes glassy as she let her chin fall to her chest before looking up at Lip. “Why are you acting like this?”

"Because I don’t know what to do!” He ran a hand through his hair, the unlit cigarette still dangling from his fingers. “I don’t know what to do, and you can’t possibly understand that.”

“You know, being well-off doesn’t take away my humanity. I’m not a monster, I’m just trying to show you that this isn’t your only option. I’m trying to make you understand.”

Lip sighed, shaking his head at her delusion. “Ian broke up with Mickey, and he’s depressed because he just got told the only thing he's ever wanted in his life isn’t a possibility anymore. Fiona didn't sleep last night because she's too busy worrying about everything. So that’s what I’ve been dealing with today. And that's just today. Tomorrow it'll be something else.”

He took in a shaky breath, his stomach churning as he heard himself say it out loud, the things that had been playing on a loop in his mind since he’d gotten the call from Fiona the night before. He fought back tears as he thought of the dark circles painted below Fiona’s eyes, and of Ian sobbing in his bedroom with no hope left to hold onto.

“How can you expect me to walk away from that, even for a second?” he continued, swiping a hand over his face to wipe away the moisture. “I’m just supposed to go sit at Starbucks, typing a paper while I sip on my fucking chai latte, knowing how tough things are back home? Knowing that me being gone is going to make it a thousand times harder for them? No, you’re right, that sounds like a great plan, no problem.”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot. Of course I know it’s hard for you. I get it.”

“No, no. You don’t. You have no fucking idea.” He clenched his index finger in his opposite hand, counting off his siblings as he went down the list. “I'm the best at getting Liam back to sleep after he has a nightmare. Ian’s going through something no one should ever have to go through, he needs me now more than ever. I’m the only one who can help Debs and Carl with their homework, you should see Fiona try to teach them geometry. So when they fail or drop out of school, it’ll be something I could’ve prevented.”

“She may not be able to do geometry, but she’s their legal guardian. Fiona knows her responsibilities, and she would never ask you to come back for good to help her with them.”

“Of course she wouldn’t ask, she’s given up her whole fucking life for us! But when I was gone last year, what happened? She fell apart. I know that’s on her, but it’s on me too. I'm supposed to be right there next to her so she doesn't have to do this alone.” He paused, taking a breath and glancing over at the living room window. “So I can’t just think about me, I can’t just think about the future. I have to think about all of them, right now.”

Amanda set her jaw, her chin wobbling as she watched Lip crumble. “None of that should be your responsibility.”

“It _is_ my responsibility. It's always been my job, me and Fiona. And I don't think she can do it without me. I don't think any of them can do it without me,” he choked, voice thick with emotion. “So don’t pretend you understand. Like you can relate. You can’t. You will _never_ be able to, and you’re not going to change my mind, no matter how much you butt in or push me, no matter how many more guilt trips you’ve got in you. I’m done. Go find some other charity case to work on.”

Amanda sniffled, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Screw you,” she said, gripping the backpack in front of her stomach and stomping off to her car.

Lip watched her drive off before turning to lean back against the fence, finally lighting the cigarette in his hand. He stared at the house in front of him, watching the shadows move along its face, taking slow pulls from his cigarette until he had no choice but to go back inside.

*

Ian stared mindlessly at the TV, bouncing his foot on the coffee table as he sipped his pop. He looked over to Liam next to him, his own pop tilting in his hand as he fought sleep, nodding off and then snapping awake. Ian grabbed the can out of his hand and sat it safely on the coffee table, watching as Liam rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

“Are you done yet?” Carl yelled over the sound of the vacuum. “Can’t hear shit.”

Debbie turned it off, giving him a pointed look. “Are you done with _your_ chores yet?”

“I had community service this morning,” he replied, a cocky grin on his face. “I’m tired.”

Debbie rolled her eyes and turned the vacuum back on, purposely running it into Carl’s foot as she made her way across the room.

“Hey.” Carl got Lip’s attention and nodded at the cord dragging across the floor. “Unplug it.”

Lip made no move to grab the cord, his eyes drifting back to the inaudible television. “She’s almost done.”

“The hell’s your problem?” Carl muttered.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah that’s why you came in the house crying.”

Fiona walked in just as the vacuuming ceased. “Who’s cryin’?”

“The big baby over there,” Debbie said, pointing to Carl.

“Pizza in celebration of Ian’s freedom will be here in a half hour.” Fiona scooped Liam up off the couch where he was fighting to stay awake. “Come on, milk dud. Bath time.”

Ian glanced down as his phone lit up in his hands, reading the new text message that appeared on his screen.

_I’m outside_

“Think I’m gonna go for a walk,” he announced, standing quickly and then slowly stretching to cover up his eagerness.

Carl wrinkled his nose. “It’s dark out.”

“Want me to come?” Lip offered.

“Nah, it’s cool. I won’t be long.”

He turned his back to his siblings’ worried looks and slipped out the front door, feeling instant relief when he saw Monica standing just inside the gate.

“Ian! I was so happy when I got your message.”

“Shh,” he whispered, hurrying down the steps. “Everyone’s inside. They can’t know you’re here.” He threw a look over his shoulder before grabbing her wrist. “Come on.”

He dragged her out the gate and around the side of the house, stopping when they reached the back stairs. She stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, and Ian let himself feel comforted by her embrace as he finally relaxed.

“I came as soon as I could,” Monica said as she pulled away. “I stopped and got you something. To cheer you up.”

She held open the brown paper bag in her hands and Ian looked inside, seeing a mound of candy bars sitting at the bottom.

“Thanks.” Ian stuffed his hands in his pockets, his shy gaze falling to the ground. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

“Of course! I always want to see you.” She smiled, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. “Gosh your hair got so long. How'd it grow that much since the last time I saw you?”

“It's been awhile.”

“And you look taller. Are you taller?”

Ian shrugged, struggling to work his face into a small smile.

“I’m so happy you called.” Monica sighed, taking in the sight of him.

“I’m really glad you came.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he scuffed the toe of his shoe into the ground. “You’re the only person who can understand.”

Monica frowned, looking up at him with concern. “What's going on, baby?”

Ian sat down on the steps, holding his face in his hands. “A lot.”

“Hey,” Monica shushed, taking a seat next to him and resting a hand on his back. “Don’t cry.”

He pulled his hands away and wrapped his arms around himself, hunching over against the cold. “I'm bipolar. Had to check into a hospital for a few days and they diagnosed me.”

“Oh, Ian,” Monica gasped, visibly relieved. “I know they make it sound terrible, but listen to me. It's not like they say, because they don't know.” She laid her fingertips gently on his chin, coaxing him to look at her. “Do you know what bipolar really is? It's big feelings. We're lucky enough to feel more than everyone else."

“I did some bad stuff.” Ian sniffled, turning his head to stare at the chipped paint on the railing. “Took my boyfriend's baby and ran away. Almost hit Debbie with a bat. Stuff like that.”

“You'll get better at it. You'll get used to it, I promise.”

“They've got me on meds,” he mumbled, picking at a piece of the gray paint. “Everyone says that's what’s best but I have side effects and I feel foggy and tired all the time.”

“Sweetie, look at me. I’m your mom. I want what's best for you. So I would never ever lie to you.” Ian looked over to meet her sincere gaze. “The drugs aren't what's best. People who try to make you take them have the best intentions, but they don't know like we do.”

“They all think they’re helping me. Fiona, Lip, Debs, Carl. Mickey,” he added after a beat.

“Your boyfriend?”

Ian nodded. “I had to break up with him, though,” he said quietly, the emotions from the previous night hitting him again. “He doesn’t treat me like me. Treats me like I’m made of glass, like I’m going to break any second.” He paused, wiping away the tears that had gathered at his jaw. “Spends all his time worrying about me. That’s not how it was supposed to be.”

“I know people like that. Like it breaks their heart just to look at you.” Monica reached over to cover his hand with her own. “I know it’s hard, and I’m sure he means well, but people like that aren’t good for you. You need to be with people who accept you for who you are.”

Ian swallowed hard. “I miss him.”

“I’ll tell you what. You and me will go out and have some fun together, okay? Take your mind off him for awhile.”

Ian opened his mouth to respond when he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned to see Fiona standing there, bulging trash bag in hand, staring at them with wide eyes.

“Monica?”

They both stood, and Monica offered her a careful smile. “Hey, Fiona.”

“Ian, what’s goin’ on?” Fiona asked, her tone wary as she set the trash bag down. “You okay?”

“Did you say- shit.” Lip appeared in the doorway, his face hardening when he saw his mother. “Back so soon? Thought it’d be at least another year until we had to deal with you again.”

Ian sighed. “Lip, back off. I asked her to come.”

“What, you called her?” Lip narrowed his eyes, glaring at Ian as he stepped out onto the porch. “What the hell, Ian?”

“I needed someone who understands. You guys don’t fucking get it.” He locked eyes with Lip, staring at him with conviction. “There's a big difference between sympathy and empathy."

Lip scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief when Debbie stepped out to join them.

"Oh my god, Debbie,” Monica gasped, ascending the stairs. “Look at you. You're such a beautiful woman."

Debbie smiled, but Ian saw her cautiously take up a light grip on Lip’s arm. "Hi."

"Hi, sweetheart. I missed you so much. I can't believe how grown up you are."

Monica took another step forward, but stopped when Lip moved to block Debbie, putting his shoulder between the two of them.

“Yeah, you missed a lot,” Fiona spat, her jaw tightening. “Like always."

Monica turned from Fiona to Lip, her expression pained. "I'm not going to hurt her."

Lip laughed, looking to the side and swiping his thumb over his upper lip. "Is that a fucking joke?"

"Where you been?" Fiona asked, pouting out her lips in distaste.

"I’ve got a place, with my boyfriend. He’s got a nice trailer outside the city. It’s beautiful there.”

Lip nodding, pretending to be impressed. “Good. No reason for you to stick around here then.”

“Maybe I could come inside and catch up.” Monica pulled her sleeves over her hands as she looked to her children desperately. “Just for a little while, I won’t stay.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s bedtime for the kids, Lip’s got homework,” Fiona said, dismissing Monica’s futile attempt.

Monica’s mouth fell open, her face lighting up as she looked at Lip. “You’re in college? I always knew you’d make it. So smart, even since before you could talk.” She bounced on her toes, gawking at him in awe and beaming with pride. “Wow. My boy, a college student.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t give yourself too many pats on the back.” He looked past her to Ian, who was still lingering at the bottom of the stairs. “Ian, let’s go inside.”

“Lip, please,” Monica tried again. “I miss you guys.”

Lip’s expression shuttered tight, anger screaming from every line of his face. “No. You don’t get to come here whenever you want. You don’t get to see us if we don’t want to see you. Because you don’t get what it does to us. To them. You get to leave and not think anything of it, and we’re the ones picking up the pieces. We’re the ones explaining to them why you don’t want them.”

“But I do,” she insisted, her eyes welling up. “I want all of you-”

“No, you don’t. You want us for an hour, or a day, but after that you’re done. And that’s fine. But if that’s the way it’s gonna be, then just stay the fuck away. For good.”

The calmness of Lip’s voice sent chills down Ian’s spine. He looked up at his siblings on the porch. Debbie watching nervously from behind Lip, a look of determination on his face. Fiona, arms crossed tightly over her chest and expression cold despite being near tears. And Monica, hurt and pleading with no one on her side.

Lip gave him a questioning look as Ian made his way up the stairs.

“What do you even want her for? So you can feel good about yourself when you stop taking your meds?” He stared gravely at Ian, begging him to listen. “Don’t buy into whatever she’s telling you. We’re the ones who’ll be here for you when she’s gone.”

Monica stepped back, grabbing hold of Ian’s hand. “He doesn’t need the meds.”

Ian turned to her, speaking lowly in her ear. “Mom, are you sure you don’t want to try meds again? Just to see if they make you feel any better? I know you’ve taken them before, but they have a ton of different kinds they can try.”

“What?” Monica’s eyes grew wide, looking betrayed. “No. No, Ian, I- I thought we were on the same page.”

“We are. I just want to make sure-”

“Carl!” Monica interrupted. Ian turned to see Carl’s head peeking out from the doorway, Liam at his side. “And oh my god, look who it is! Is that my Liam? Such a big boy.”

Liam pushed Carl in front of him, wrapping an arm around his brother’s leg.

“Sweetie, it’s me,” Monica coaxed. “It’s mommy. Come here, baby.”

Ian pushed past her, picking up Liam and setting him on his hip. “Come on, Liam. You know who that is?”

Liam buried his face in Ian’s shoulder, and Ian gave Monica an apologetic look. “He’s tired.”

“He doesn’t know who you are,” Fiona told her, overstepping Ian’s excuse. “And if you give a shit about him, you’ll keep it that way. He’s better off with what he’s already got, a family who loves him and would never leave him behind.”

“Debbie? Carl?” Monica implored as her eyes grew wet with tears.

Debbie exchanged a look with Carl before speaking for the both of them. “I think you should go back to your boyfriend. It sounds nice there, and we’re doing fine.”

Monica nodded, her chin quivering. “Without me, you mean.” She gave her children one last look before racing down the stairs.

“Mom, wait.” Ian handed Liam off to Lip and chased after her, catching her arm as she reached the sidewalk.

“Mom, you can stay. If you go to a doctor and try some meds, you can stay here with us.” His eyes searched her face wildly, an urgency in his voice as he ignored the disbelieving scoffs of his siblings behind him. “We can do it together.”

Monica smiled as her eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re always welcome to come with me. But I can’t stay here. I don’t want them to change me. People are always going to try to change us. We need to find people who love us for who we are. Like I love you.”

“They _do_ love us, Mom.” Ian looked at her imploringly. “They might not understand, but they love us. I know they do.”

She brought a hand up to cup his face, stroking her thumb across his cheek. “Come with me.”

Ian shook his head as tears spilled down his face. “I can’t. Mom, please.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She wiped away his tears and smiled at him once more before hurrying off down the street, soon swallowed by the darkness.

Ian stepped onto the sidewalk, squinting into the night where she had disappeared before turning to look down the opposite side of the street. He wanted desperately to go that way, to wander down a few blocks and step into the house that he called home not so long ago, to sleep in the bed that guaranteed him comfort because of the person who would be lying next to him.

“Ian,” he heard behind him. It was Fiona, standing just inside the front door, expression stoic as she infused her voice with false lightness. “Come on. Pizza will be here any minute.”

Ian exhaled as he turned his back to the darkness and followed her inside, knowing it was for the best.

*

Fiona let out a deep sigh as she folded the last of the laundry, setting the final shirt on top of the pile in the basket. She let the weight of the clothes hang heavily from her arms as she walked the basket over to the stairs, climbing the first few and setting the basket on the landing.

She yawned and stretched her arms behind her back as she retraced her steps, eyes wandering over to the kitchen cabinets and the floor in front of the sink, unwelcome memories trying to make their way in. Forcing them back, she stopped in front of the ironing board where her carefully selected interview outfit was lying in a wrinkled heap. She stared at the clothes with heavy eyes, willing herself to plug in the iron and get started.

She was startled by her phone vibrating in her pocket, pulling it out to see an unfamiliar number displayed across the bright screen. “Hello?”

“It’s way after midnight. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Fiona’s face fell, bringing her eyes closed with it. “Jimmy.”

“I didn’t want to knock. Don’t want to wake the kids.”

She sighed, dragging herself into the living room to the front window. She pulled back the curtain to find Jimmy standing in the front yard with his back to the house, a large box resting on a dolly next to him.

“What the hell is that?”

Jimmy spun around to see her standing in the window. “Peace offering.”

“Don’t want your charity.”

“Isn't my charity still sitting in your kitchen working overtime on your laundry?” Jimmy asked plainly, his expression blank. “It’s a gift. A good one, too. Come see.”

Fiona backed away from the window reluctantly. She opened the front door and stepped onto the porch, sticking the phone in her back pocket before wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the frigid air.

“What is it?”

“It’s a safe.” Jimmy smiled proudly, his arms outstretched toward the box. “Lot easier than moving the coffee can around. It’s Frank-proof.” He dropped his arms to his sides before lifting one to scratch at the back of his head as he eyed the box contemplatively. “Just need you to help me get it up the stairs. Somehow. This thing weighs a ton.”

“Just leave it,” Fiona said, lacking the energy to argue. “I’m tired.”

She turned and headed back into the house, not at all surprised when she heard Jimmy follow. She grabbed her blouse off of the ironing board and laid it out flat, ignoring his presence.

“Can I stay?”

“No,” she said firmly as she unraveled the cord from around the iron and plugged it into the outlet.

“I miss you.”

Fiona slammed the iron down and turned to Jimmy, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not doin’ this. Not tonight. I had the worst fucking day, and I have an interview in the morning that I can’t fuck up. So I just wanna get my shit done and go to bed.”

“An interview?” Jimmy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s great. You found a place that’s willing to overlook your record?”

Fiona looked at him incredulously. “You really have been spyin’ on me. How much do you know?”

“A lot. Angela’s good at what she does and when you don’t talk, Jackie does. Sweet girl, from what I hear, but pretty gullible.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” Fiona scoffed, shaking her head. “And if you know that much about what’s goin’ on, you know I sure as hell don’t have time for your shit.”

Jimmy lifted himself onto the counter, making himself comfortable. “I’m not asking you to do anything crazy, I just want our life back.”

Fiona roared with laughter at the ridiculous contradiction. He stared blankly at her. “What? Why is that funny?”

“I just can’t believe you’re that stupid," Fiona said with a smile, catching her breath as her laughter died down. "You really think it’s that easy. That’s fuckin' hilarious.”

“Why? Give me one good, solid, no bullshit reason why that’s so insane.”

Fiona shook her head and walked into the dining room. She found a stack of papers and rummaged through it, searching for one in particular.

“See, you can’t,” Jimmy continued. “You can’t think of any reason why we can’t pick up where we left off.”

She returned to the kitchen with the notepad she’d been looking for, handing it to Jimmy and leaning back against the stove.

“What’s this, homework?” he asked, flattening the creases and crinkles in the paper.

“Yeah, between workin’ twelve hours a day and raisin’ five kids I somehow find the time for higher education.” She wrapped her thin sweater tightly around herself and looked down at the floor, tugging at her lip with her teeth. “It’s a list I’ve been workin' on for awhile.”

“Endangering Liam, credit card debt, fast food, adding water to the milk." Jimmy skimmed the list, his face showing little reaction. "It's like confession without the added bonus of the creepy priest behind the screen.”

“It’s all the shit I feel guilty about and need to work on." She pulled at the long sleeves of her sweater, her index finger finding a gaping hole in one of the wrists. "And all the reasons I can’t let you back into our lives.”

“I would’ve been here if I hadn’t been detained in a foreign country with zero access to any form of communication,” he stressed dramatically. “But by the time I got back you were doing fine.”

Fiona scoffed, rolling her eyes as she pushed off the counter and wandered back to the ironing board. She waved her hand in front of the iron, feeling the warmth radiating from it. She pressed the face of it against the blouse as Jimmy rambled on behind her.

“I drove by. A few times. Saw you once in awhile. And I had Angela, obviously. Which may have been a shady move but what am I if not unconventional?”

He waited, maybe for her to laugh at the comment or get angry or say anything at all. But Fiona stayed silent, smoothing the wrinkles on the front of the shirt before twisting it to work on the side.

“She said you seemed good. Stressed, but good. So I thought I was doing the right thing.” He paused, waiting for Fiona’s reaction. “How’s Liam doing? Everything good?”

Fiona set the iron down, pulling her hands over her face and then through her hair. She held her hair in handfuls at the back of her neck, exhaling sharply before spinning to face Jimmy.

“Yeah, by some fuckin’ miracle he’s okay. But I can’t let it happen again.” She gestured toward the list he still held in his hands. “I can’t let any of that shit happen again. I gotta work on me.”

“But you can do that with me here. Or we can go away and not have to worry about shit like that. Or we can figure out one of the other millions of options we have that doesn’t involve us not being together.”

“No. No!” she repeated, aware that she didn’t sound all that convincing. “I don’t need this shit. Ian almost got arrested by the Army, he broke up with his boyfriend, Monica showed up, Lip’s neglecting his school shit, Carl just got outta juvie for sellin’ pot, Debbie’s havin’ sex, and I’m just doing everything I can to make sure Liam is borderline okay. So I do not need this. I can’t do this with you.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice wavering with uncertainty. “I can’t.”

Jimmy’s face was creased into a frown, his eyes pleading. “I can help you, Fiona.”

Fiona grinded her teeth as she stared at him with tired eyes. “So that’s what you do? Swoop in here when we’re all banged up so you can lend a hand in fixin’ us, and then split as soon as we feel like we can trust you?”

“That’s not what I did," he said in protest. "That’s not what I meant to do.”

“Yeah, I know. Kept hostage by your wife’s dad or whatever. You think I forgot where we were before that? You, runnin’ away to Michigan.”

“I was planning on maybe going without you, yes, but I was never going to leave you. There’s a difference there, a huge difference, and you have to know that.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t know what’s what, and I’m not gonna waste my time figurin’ it out. Because it doesn’t matter anymore. You were gone, and I moved on. We moved on. It happened.”

Jimmy slid off the counter, walking toward Fiona with slow conviction. “I want this. Tell me you don’t.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Really.”

“You’re not hearin’ me.” She shook her head, but her tone carried little anger. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Because you don’t trust me?” he asked, his face nearly pressing against hers.

Fiona’s mouth hung open in a wordless confirmation.

“You can trust me, Fiona. Please. Trust me.”

She shook her head slowly, her mouth pulled tightly into a frown as her eyes grew moist.

“Trust me.”

They moved forward in the same instant, mouths crashing into each other almost painfully. Jimmy plunged his tongue into Fiona’s mouth and she reciprocated by licking at his lip and then biting down softly, tugging on it in pure want.

She pushed him forward and turned, trading positions while still linked at the mouths, Fiona’s hands on the back of Jimmy’s head locking them in a tight embrace. She moved with him as they took a few steps back until Fiona ran into the counter, and she soon found herself swept off her feet.

Jimmy sat her on the counter and pushed her panties aside. He slid two fingers inside her, working her open as his thumb massaged her clit. Fiona threw her head back and let him mouth at her neck, her mouth falling open in pleasure.

After a moment she pressed her foot against his hip and pushed him back, giving her room to hop off the counter. She hurriedly slid off her panties and then made quick work of Jimmy’s jeans as he pulled his shirt over his head. He stepped out of his pants before pulling Fiona close to him again, grabbing her ass and grinding against her as he sucked at her lower lip.

Fiona wrapped one arm around Jimmy’s neck and used the other hand to get back onto the counter before wrapping it around the base of his cock and giving it a few firm strokes.

She stretched to reach her purse next to the microwave, rummaging around as Jimmy ran his tongue over her breast, teasing her nipple. She pulled her hand back when she found a condom, tearing it open with her teeth and rolling it onto Jimmy’s cock.

She scooted forward on the countertop and lowered herself onto him until he was inside her, gasping at the fullness that she hadn’t felt in so long. He moved slowly, rolling his hips with each thrust, breathing heavily onto her neck, hot and sticky with sweat.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed, the words tickling her collarbone.

Fiona wrapped her legs tightly around him, her heels digging into his back, and he hoisted her up again. One arm went around her waist and the other cradled her head as he laid her down, the cold floor sending chills down her spine. She buried a hand in his hair as his thrusts became deeper, more rapid, and she let out a soft moan when he moved a hand down to her clit. Her breathing sped up as she approached her climax, closing her eyes tightly as her body jolted, mouth agape and head tipped back.

She ran her fingernails lightly over his back as she relaxed, her shallow breaths turning to deeper ones as his grew more erratic. Fiona blinked her eyes open as he continued to rock forward, her gaze traveling upward and landing on the wrinkled sleeve of her blouse dangling off the side of the ironing board.

She closed her eyes again and turned her head to the side, reveling in the soothing path of kisses Jimmy planted along her neck.

*

Mickey took a hit from the joint in his hand before chugging the last of his beer, tossing the can off the rooftop. He used the back of his hand to wipe the dribbles from his chin and rested his head back against the concrete ledge, shifting his eyes from the graffitied wall before him up to the dark sky, speckled with faint stars.

He felt himself drifting away, head spinning from the combination of booze and weed. Fighting against heavy eyelids, he glanced over at the fifth of whiskey to his left, too far to his left, out of reach. He sighed, taking another hit and struggling to find the motivation to move.

“Were you just not planning on coming home tonight?”

Mickey looked over at the sound of Mandy’s voice to see her emerging from the darkness, her figure becoming more clear as she approached him.

“Didn’t know I had a curfew.” He chewed at the side of his mouth, eyes falling from Mandy back to the wall in front of him. “Could’ve texted me instead of searchin’ the fuckin’ city.”

“Left your phone at home, douchebag.”

Mandy moved to sit next to him but Mickey gave her knee a gentle push, pointing to the fifth on his other side. “Give me that.”

“Not like you were hard to find,” she continued as she grabbed the glass bottle and collapsed onto the hard ground beside him, leaning into his shoulder as she got situated. “It’s always this place.”

He traded her the joint for the bottle, taking a swig as she brought the joint to her lips. He sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, the whiskey leaving a burning in his chest.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Mandy wrapping her jacket more tightly around herself as the night grew colder while Mickey traced his thumb over the grooves in the bottle. They passed the joint between them a few more times before Mandy tossed it, grounding it into the floor with the heel of her boot.

“You know you can pay to name a star after someone?” she asked him, gazing up at the dimly lit sky.

“Jesus Christ, the shit people waste their money on.”

“Yeah, saw an infomercial about it once,” Mandy explained. “You fork over like fifty bucks to the International Star Registry and they send you a certificate or something.”

“The fuck’s the point of that?”

“To make money off idiots.” She shrugged, stretching out her legs and curling her toes in her boots. “It’s stupid.”

Mickey snorted. “You can say that again.”

“Wanna hear something really stupid?” Mandy chuckled, running a hand through her hair in embarrassment. “I used to wish Lip would do somethin’ like that for me.”

He knitted his brow, eyeing her incredulously. “The hell are you gonna do with a piece of paper that says there’s a fuckin’ star named after you?”

“Fuck you,” she said, but the lightness of her tone told Mickey she wasn’t bothered. “It’s not about the paper. It’s the gesture. Looking up at the sky and knowing someone loves you that much. Knowing that they look up at the sky and think of you, too.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at her unusual sentimentality. “Seriously? Jesus Christ, I’m gonna hack up my lunch.” He saw Mandy’s small smirk out of the corner of his eye, but her crestfallen gaze fell to her hands in her lap. “The guy’s a tool, Mandy.”

“I know.” She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chin. “I’m over it.”

“Yep,” he agreed, scraping his teeth over the skin of his lower lip as he attempted to convince himself it was that easy.

“You over it, too?” Mandy asked skeptically. Mickey flipped her off as he brought the bottle to his lips again. “I used to be so fucking jealous of you two. You had the kind of thing that…” She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “You’d buy stars for each other.”

Mickey scoffed. “Not in a million fuckin’ years.”

“You know what I mean. You guys love each other so fucking much. I didn’t think people like us could have that.” She paused, wrapping her arms tightly around her legs, bringing her thighs closer to her chest. “And I was angry that you got it instead of me.”

Mickey’s heart fell into his stomach at his sister’s unexpected admission. He chewed his lip as he looked at her, really taking notice of her for the first time that night. Her hair was still damp from her post-Waffle House shower, her face free of any makeup, her eyes wide and awake. She looked older than he remembered, and he was suddenly hit with a pang of guilt; maybe it was the first time he’d taken notice of her in a long time.

“I got over the angry thing a while ago,” Mandy continued. “But the jealous thing won’t go away. Because I know I’ll probably never have that.”

Mickey cleared his throat, swallowing dryly as he attempted to stave off his emotions. “It ain’t worth it.”

He slapped his hand on the ledge and used it to pull himself up, his legs feeling unsupportive beneath him. He staggered a few steps to the middle of the roof, digging his knuckles into a pillar to steady himself before beginning to pace. He wandered around the partially enclosed area, looking out the gaping windows and down to the other rundown buildings below, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand as he tried to forget.

“You don’t mean that,” he heard Mandy say behind him.

“No?” he questioned, a laugh getting caught in his throat. He looked at her through teary eyes, his voice becoming more powerful as his pulse quickened. “You want it now? You wanna feel like this?”

Mandy lifted a shoulder. “No. But you got to feel all the good stuff. So maybe it evens out.”

“It doesn’t. It wasn’t worth shit.”

Mandy gave him a knowing look and his shoulders fell. He cursed under his breath as he dropped the facade and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Keep drinking,” Mandy encouraged.

Mickey sniffled, wiping his nose with the edge of his hand as he sat down next to Mandy again. He poured the whiskey down his throat and leaned his head back against the rough wall, squeezing his eyes closed.

“What’s it like?” Mandy asked after a brief silence. “With him. What’s it feel like?”

“I’m not in the mood for your fuckin’ girl talk.”

“Humor me. My relationships were Kenyatta, Lip, and Arty Bloom in the seventh grade. You lucked out, so you owe it to me.”

“I don’t know. Can’t explain it,” he said honestly, but her prying look insisted on more. “Like sometimes I can’t breathe, I guess. I don’t know. Even just him looking at me is like…” he trailed off, shrugging a shoulder.

“Like an electric shock,” Mandy finished for him. “Like you light up.”

“Yeah.” Mickey met her eyes, surprised by the accuracy of the description. “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Mandy nodded slowly. “I never felt like that. Not with Lip, not with anyone.” She snatched the nearly-empty bottle from his hands and took a drink. “Are you gonna be an asshole if I tell you something?”

“Probably.”

“I think I’m gonna get my GED.”

“Whatever,” Mickey said, appearing indifferent. “Maybe then your boss will take you seriously when you tell him squirrels got nothin’ to do with waffles.”

“Or I could get a better job that doesn’t involve squirrels or waffles.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, staring down at her feet self-consciously. “Get my own place.”

Mickey narrowed his eyes, more confused than concerned. “Why the hell would you wanna pay for that? Lesbian wife and screaming rugrat driving you out?”

“No, I just- I actually didn’t mind when you guys were all gone. Just me in that big house. I thought I’d be lonely, but I was okay. Made me think maybe I don’t need someone who buys me stars or anything. I could be alright with it just bein’ me.”

Mickey licked his lips, unsure how to respond. He pressed his palms into the ground, using the leverage to scoot forward and slouch further back against the ledge, his hands digging into broken leaves and crumbles of dirt.

“Can’t believe you wanted that fuckhead to buy you a star,” he said, wiping his grimy palms on his jeans.

Mandy rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle, taking one last gulp before handing it back to him. She chewed at her fingernails, looking deep in thought as she gazed up at the sky.

“Coolest thing I ever learned in school was that stars are always there,” she said after a moment. “They never go away.”

Mickey quirked a brow. “How stoned are you? That’s common fuckin’ sense.”

“Not to an eight year old, ass. I thought they went away during the day. But they don’t. Even when you can’t see them, you still know they’re there.”

Mickey’s mouth hung open as he tried to piece together what she was saying. “If you’re trying to make some dumbass comparison to Ian, it sucks,” he told her, wrinkling his forehead. “He left. More than once, remember? So don’t give me that bullshit.”

“I’m not. I’m just talking.”

“Didn’t know you were so obsessed with the goddamn sky.” He brought his thumb up to scratch his nose, unable to keep his thoughts away from Ian. “He say anything to you?”

“No. I haven’t texted him yet. Thought I’d give him some space, I’m sure his family’s hovering.”

Mickey pursed his lips, hiding his disappointment. “Carl came over.”

“Yeah?” Mandy raised her brows expectantly. “He say how he’s doing?”

Mickey shook his head. “Think he was still sleepin’ when he left for community service this mornin’.” He paused, thinking back to what Carl had told him. “Thinks he’ll change his mind.”

“He might.”

“Might not.”

“Yeah,” Mandy admitted softly. “Might not.”

Mickey looked away, his tongue catching the corner of his mouth as he felt a tear fall down his cheek, followed by another, then another. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, unable to choke back his sobs.

He took a deep breath, calming himself as Mandy sat wordlessly beside him. After he’d dried the tears from his face, Mandy pushed the forgotten whiskey into his hands and he finished it off, throwing the bottle against the pillar in front of them.

After a moment, he lifted his chin as he turned his gaze up to the sky. “You can have that one.”

“What?”

“That star,” he said, his voice scratchy. “I’m givin’ it to you. Sorry I didn’t have time to contact the fuckin’ international star thing.”

Mandy followed his eyes, grinning when she realized what he was saying. “What one? That one?”

Mickey shrugged, not bothering to figure out which one she was referring to. “Sure.”

“Never gonna be able to find it again after I look away,” she said, squinting intensely at her star.

“The fuck’s it matter? You’ll still know it’s always there, right? Ain’t that the point?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, unable to hide her shock at his perception.

Her gaze flicked over to Mickey, and he shared a silent look with her before closing his eyes, unable to stare at the stars any longer.


	12. Almost Like A Dream

Ian stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing over the old water stains and small cracks in the plaster as the comforting sound of Carl’s loud snores drifted across the room. He pushed his head back into the pillow, moving it side to side in an effort to get more comfortable as he kicked at the blanket tangled around his legs. Sighing in defeat, he flopped over on his side and reached for his phone, illuminating the screen to check the time.

Groaning under his breath, Ian switched off his alarm just before it could sound through the room and sat up, grabbing the pill container from his bedside table. He scooped out his morning dose of meds and vitamins and tossed them into his mouth, washing them down quickly with the glass of water he’d refilled last night. Setting the glass back down, he closed the lid of the container, running a finger over the side where Mickey had carved _ICG_ into the plastic with his pocketknife. The corners of his lips turned up, only to fall a moment later.

Glancing at his phone screen, he tapped his finger against the photo app, shaking his head at himself even as he settled the phone in his hands and started scrolling through his pictures. Mickey sleeping, Mickey laughing, Mickey scowling at the camera. Mickey, Mickey, Mickey.

"You miss him, huh?"

Ian jerked his head up to find Carl watching him from the top bunk, stretching his arms over his head and opening his mouth around a big yawn. Cheeks reddening in embarrassment, Ian looked away from his inquisitive stare.

"It's okay, I think he misses you, too."

Ian snapped his head back to look at him. "How would you know?"

"Because I talked to him." Carl jumped down from his bed, walking over to the dresser to rifle through his drawers. "Went over there yesterday."

Ian grimaced. "Carl, don't butt in-"

"I didn't go to talk about you, I didn’t even know you broke up yet. I just went to see Mickey." Carl frowned at Ian as he gave up on his dresser and started scanning the floor for something acceptable. "He's my friend too, you know. I can talk to him whenever I want."

Ian smiled despite himself. "Forgot you guys are so tight."

"Well, we are." Carl grunted in satisfaction when he found a shirt that was only a little wrinkled and pulled it on over his head. He reached for the deodorant on top of his dresser. "And he’s really sad."

Ian's face fell. "He said that?"

Carl snorted as he reached for his jeans. "No. I asked how he was doing, and he told me to fuck off. But he looked really tired, like he hasn't been sleeping. And I'm pretty sure he was on a bender, he reeked like Frank."

Ian sighed, turning his gaze back to his phone and tracing a shaky finger over Mickey's image.

"I just don't get it." Carl came to stand in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. "You're both depressed and pathetic. I don't think this is helping you."

"It's complicated."

"So explain it to me," Carl said, voice tinged with frustration.

Ian met his eyes, softening when he saw his brother’s genuine confusion. "I'm a mess, Carl. I gotta get my shit together."

"Okay." He waited, watching Ian with a raised brow. "That's it?"

Ian shrugged. "It's not fair to Mickey. I can't be a good boyfriend until I figure this shit out. With the bipolar and the meds and everything."

Carl twisted his mouth into a puzzled frown. "But I thought Mickey was helping you with that stuff."

"He was." Ian rubbed a hand over his eyes, exhausted by the topic and the constant barrage of doubts. "I can't...I just think we need to be apart for now. Until I'm doing good again.” He chuckled darkly, voice lowering to a mutter. “If I’m _ever_ doing good again."

Carl shook his head. "That's really dumb."

Ian raised a brow, caught between laughing at Carl's bluntness and scowling at his pushiness.

"What? It is," Carl answered his unasked question. "You're only allowed to be with someone if you're doing perfect? Guess that means we're all fucked."

“It’s not that simple-”

“Whatever.” Carl brushed him off, stepping back over to his dresser to grab his wallet and keys and shove them into his pocket. “I gotta go to community service."

Ian let out a heavy breath, resting his head in his hands. He looked up again when he heard fast footsteps running at him, catching sight of Liam just before he crashed into his knees.

“Ian, I’m hungry!”

Ian smiled, grateful for the distraction as he ran a hand over Liam’s short hair. “Oh yeah? Where’s Fi?”

“She’s still sleepin’.” Liam raised his arms in exasperation. “I waited ‘til the end of my Thomas DVD, but she _still_ didn’t get up.”

Ian moved his hand around to grab Liam’s nose, pulling him close and tapping their foreheads together lightly. “What a lazybones, huh?”

Liam giggled, removing Ian’s hand from his nose and holding onto it, dancing his fingers over Ian’s palm. “Yeah, she is! And I think she was sad ‘cause of that lady. Debbie says sometimes being sad makes you tired.”

Ian felt his smile drop at the dismissive way Liam referred to their mother. He cleared his throat, closing his fist to capture Liam’s fingers. “Yeah bud, that’s true.”

Liam smiled at getting something right, shaking loose and wrapping both of his small hands around Ian’s wrist. “Come on, let’s make pancakes!”

“You go get the stuff ready and I’ll be down in a minute, okay?” Ian watched as Liam took off running down the stairs again, shouting about finding chocolate chips in the cupboard.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, shaking thoughts of Monica from his head and standing slowly, startling when he noticed Carl still watching him. “What?”

Carl shrugged. “I’m just saying. Breaking up with Mickey didn’t make you any better, right? You’re still sick, and it’s still gonna be really hard.”

“What’s your point?” Ian asked, walking over to open his dresser drawer to look for a t-shirt. He swallowed hard when his hand landed on one of Mickey’s, old and worn with the sleeves ripped off. He ran his finger gently over the frayed edges, blinking back a sudden rush of moisture behind his eyes.

Carl broke him out of the moment when he clapped him on the back as he headed for the door. “If it’s gonna be really hard no matter what, wouldn’t you rather do it with him?”

Ian bit his lip, hand tightening on Mickey’s shirt as Carl descended the stairs.

*

Fiona blinked her eyes open slowly, face scrunching up in confusion as she became aware of the warm weight against her back. She reached up to push her hair out of the way, squinting as the late morning sun hit her full in the face.

"Shit!"

Fiona bolted up, knocking Jimmy's arm away as she scraped the floor for her panties, latching onto them and pulling them quickly up her legs.

"Fiona?" Jimmy muttered sleepily, extending his arm into the warm space she'd just vacated.

"Up." Fiona reached for her discarded shirt, pulling it on over her head. "Get up, now."

He sat up slowly, keeping the sheets over his legs as he rested his arms on his bent knees, watching her with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Why? I thought we could lounge around in bed for awhile and then have breakfast. I'll take you out, my treat."

"I have a job interview today, remember?" Fiona picked up her phone and checked the time, groaning loudly. " _Had_ a job interview. God, I'm so fucked."

"What kind of business schedules interviews for the weekend?"

Fiona glared at him, feeling some vague satisfaction when he physically recoiled from the intensity of her gaze. "Get up and get out. I can't deal with you right now."

Jimmy sighed, bending down to grope around on the floor for his jeans. "I'm sure you can reschedule, it's not a big deal."

"Don't need a pep talk, Jimmy." Fiona pulled Jasmine's number up from her contacts, rubbing at her temples as she tried to think fast.

"Just say something happened with the kids." Jimmy stood and pulled his shirt on over his head before stepping closer and grabbing her face in his hands, smile genuine. "And hey, if that doesn't work, you can just run away with me and live the good life. No jobs required."

Fiona batted his hands away, shoving on his shoulder to get him over to the door. "Out!" She followed him down the hallway and jumped in surprise when Lip abruptly swung his door open and poked his head out into the hall.

"The fuck's going on?"

"Lip!" Jimmy crowed, ignoring his look of disdain and clapping him on the shoulder. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, I was real broken up about it." He turned to Fiona, bloodshot eyes widened in disbelief. "You serious?"

"He's leaving," Fiona insisted, pushing on Jimmy's back again.

"But I'll be back," Jimmy said over his shoulder, shooting Lip a smarmy smile.

"What year is it?” Lip scratched a hand through his messy hair, smirking at Fiona. "Did I become an accidental time traveler in my sleep?"

Fiona flipped him off distractedly, eyes on her phone screen. "Spare me the shit talk until I get this interview stuff figured out."

"You need me to get the bat?"

Jimmy laughed nervously and took a step back as Fiona shook her head. “I think I got it under control, but thanks.”

Lip raised his hands in surrender, shooting her one last incredulous look as he retreated back into his room.

"So I'll see you tonight?"

Fiona whipped her head around. "Why are you still here? I told you to go."

"And I'm going," Jimmy agreed, moving toward her again to run a hand over her hair. "Just wanted to say goodbye."

Fiona felt herself sinking into the touch, allowing it when he pressed a kiss to her lips. Her arms started to creep up to wrap around him, but she caught herself, pushing against his chest and straightening her shoulders.

"I'll deal with you later. Go."

"Tonight." Jimmy smiled at her happily before disappearing down the stairs.

Fiona took a deep breath, composing herself before hitting the call button next to Jasmine's name. She chewed on her nail as she waited for her to pick up, insides twisting into knots.

"Fiona, nice to hear from you."

"Jasmine, I can explain-"

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago." Jasmine sighed, the wariness in her voice coming through over the phone line. "I thought you would take this seriously."

"I do, I swear." Fiona swallowed hard, tugging on the ends of her tangled hair. "Look, an old problem popped up out of nowhere, but I'm dealing with it. And I really do want this job."

"I don't know, Fiona.” Jasmine paused as doubt crept into her tone. “You know I've always liked you, but I need someone reliable.”

"I _am_ reliable," Fiona insisted, wincing when Jasmine let out a huff of disbelief.

“This job is a big responsibility.” Fiona listened anxiously as Jasmine took a couple deep breaths, the sound of her pacing coming through the line. “As much as I want to help you out, I can’t put my company at risk."

"Jasmine, please.” Fiona pinched her nose, thinking fast. “Can I just come in today? I’ll explain anything you want in person."

"Fine," Jasmine relented. "I have some time later today, you can come by the office around 2. But this is it- you blow me off again, and I'm calling it."

Fiona slumped back against the wall in relief. "Won't happen, I promise. See you soon." Tucking her phone in her pocket, she buried her face in her hands, muffling a frustrated groan. "Get it together, Fiona."

Pushing off the wall, Fiona blew out a breath and walked over to the bathroom, knocking once absentmindedly before opening the door. She jumped when she saw Debbie perched on the closed lid of the toilet.

"Oh, sorry Debs-" Fiona stopped abruptly when she saw Debbie's fingers clenching tightly around something in her fist. "Is that...is that what I think it is?"

Debbie visibly swallowed, biting her lip as she relaxed her fist to show Fiona the pregnancy test resting in her palm.

Fiona felt her vision narrowing, shock washing over her at the sight. "You've gotta be kidding me."

*

Lip rubbed a hand over his cheek as he stepped into the kitchen, feeling the indent of the pillowcase still embedded in his skin. Making a beeline straight for the coffee, he fixed himself a cup and released a sigh of pleasure when the first sip hit his tongue.

"You look sleepy.”

Lip smiled at Liam, sitting at the table in front of a box of crayons and an empty plate that was sticky with syrup. “That’s ‘cause I am. You eat breakfast?”

“Ian made me pancakes!” Liam pointed excitedly to a covered plate in the center of the table. “We saved some for you.”

Lip came around the counter to sit down across from Liam, lifting the cover to see a large stack of pancakes waiting. Yawning, he grabbed a couple and made up his own plate, swirling some syrup on as he looked around the strangely empty kitchen.

“Where is everyone?”

Liam shrugged, going back to coloring on an old notepad. Lip squinted at the paper when he noticed Fiona’s handwriting scribbled across the page.

“What are you drawing on?”

Liam blinked up at him innocently. “I don’t know, I found it on the floor.”

“Let me see.” Lip motioned for him to hand it over, eyebrows raising when he started reading, looking past Liam’s scribbles at the ink embedded in the paper.

“I’ll just run out quick and get a new one, Debs.” Fiona’s voice floated down as two sets of footsteps descended the back stairs. “Sometimes they don’t work, don’t freak out.”

Lip quickly flipped the notebook over, tearing out a new piece of paper and handing it over to Liam. “Here, color on this one.”

“Mornin’.” Fiona offered a falsely bright smile when she entered the kitchen, walking over to plant a kiss on top of Liam’s head before reaching for her jacket. Debbie trailed behind her, quiet as she slumped into a chair at the table.

“Good morning, lazybones!” Liam giggled at his own joke, grabbing another crayon from the box to start a new picture.

“You going somewhere?” Lip eyed Fiona’s sloppy ponytail and even sloppier t-shirt. “Not really your best interview look.”

Fiona swatted his shoulder as she moved around the counter, grabbing a travel mug from the dishrack. “I got that rescheduled for later. Just makin' a quick pharmacy run.”

Lip’s gaze traveled back to Debbie, taking in the downcast look on her face. “You feelin' sick, Debs?”

She shook her head, bringing her arms up to hug herself around her middle. Fiona set a mug of coffee in front of her and squeezed her shoulder. “Girl stuff, Lip.”

Lip raised a brow, grabbing his fork to tuck into his pancakes. “Say no more.”

“I’ll be back in a few. Get breakfast cleaned up?”

Lip nodded. “I got it.”

Lip sat quietly with Debbie and Liam after Fiona exited out the back door, finishing his breakfast as he watched Debbie stare into her mug and Liam put the finishing touches on his superhero drawing before wandering into the living room to watch cartoons. He startled when he heard his phone go off in his pocket and reached for it quickly.

Debbie’s eyes lit up with curiosity, the haze that had been hovering over her lifting for a moment. “Expecting someone?”

“Not really, I just-” Lip groaned when he saw that it was just a notice from Verizon that his monthly bill was ready to view. He shook his head, tossing the phone onto the table and scrubbing both hands over his face. “No, I’m not.”

“You have a fight with Amanda?” Debbie leaned forward, eyeing him shrewdly. “You look like shit.”

Lip shook his head. “It’s not a big deal.”

Debbie pursed her lips. “Amanda’s a big deal, Lip. She’s smart and funny and beautiful and nice, and she’s really good for you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Lip sighed heavily. “I know all that. But it’s just a lot, with her family and everything, and school... I don’t know if I’m up for it.”

Debbie squinted at him. “For Amanda, or for school? I thought you were doing good.”

Lip shrugged. “Was, I guess. But I’ve been missing a lot. With everything going on right now, I don’t know. Maybe I should be here.”

Debbie stood from her chair abruptly, darting over to his side of the table and smacking him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow!” Lip looked at her in irritated confusion. “Debs, what the fuck!”

Debbie lashed out again, landing a relatively soft blow to the side of his head. “You’re such an idiot!” She swatted at his arm. “What are you thinking?” Another hard hit to the shoulder. “You can’t just throw it away, Lip!”

“Okay, hey, _hey_.” Lip reached out to wrap a hand around each of her wrists, stilling her movements. He looked up at her face, noticing the redness around her eyes and the sheen of tears threatening to spill over. “Debs, what’s going on?”

Debbie’s face crumpled, tears falling down her cheeks as she choked on a giant sob. Lip jumped up from his chair, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into a tight hug.

He held her silently for a few minutes, waiting for her breath to even out before he tried to speak again. “What was that about? You still upset about Monica?”

Debbie took a deep breath, stepping back from him and settling into a chair. Lip sat down next to her, watching her closely.

“It’s not about her, it’s about you.” Debbie wiped a hand over her cheek, shaking her head. “You’re so lucky. You got this amazing chance to go to school for free, and learn new things and get out of here. You could do anything you wanted. And you just want to waste it.”

Lip swallowed guiltily, Amanda’s words from the night before echoing in his head. “I didn’t think it mattered so much to you.”

Debbie looked away. “I know I’m not as smart as you, and I probably won’t be able to go to a real college like you. But it’s nice to think about, you know? And sometimes I think- maybe if you can do it, I could too.”

“You _can_.” Lip stroked a hand over her hair. “I know you can. You’re the smartest person I know, a hell of a lot smarter than me.”

“Maybe...” Debbie’s eyes drifted shut again as she crossed her arms over her stomach. “Maybe I could do it, if I don’t fuck everything up before then. But you’re there now. And I like knowing that at least one of us is gonna make it.”

Lip looked down at the table, eyes tracing over the scrapes and scratches in the old wood from years of he and his siblings abusing it. “You don’t think you need me here more?”

Debbie chuckled, grabbing a napkin from the center of the table to wipe at her nose. “I know your ego is out of control, but we _are_ actually capable of getting by without you.”

Lip frowned, slumping back to rest more fully against his chair.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Debbie grabbed his hand, tugging until he met her eyes again. “We miss you, you know. And we’re happy when you’re here. But you’re doing something important, and we’re really proud of you. So don’t fuck it up.”

Lip sighed, rubbing his free hand against his temples. “I hear ya, Debs.”

“Good.” Debbie stood, ruffling his hair and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “I’m gonna go lay down. Tell Fiona I’m in my room when she gets back.”

Lip nodded, watching as she disappeared up the stairs. He stood and gathered up the breakfast dishes, starting the tap to fill the sink and pouring in some dish soap.

He looked over his shoulder when he heard steps pounding down the stairs, eyes widening in surprise as Ian came into view, freshly showered and fully dressed. Lip’s gaze followed him as he grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door, tucking something inside the pocket before pulling it on.

"Thought you didn't work today?” Lip asked. “Figured we could hang."

"I don't." Ian shuffled his feet nervously as he adjusted his coat and smoothed a hand over his hair. "Got something I need to take care of."

Lip raised a brow, turning to face him fully. "Have to be right now?"

Ian's mouth formed a straight line, his eyes taking on a determined cast. "It's important. Can't wait."

Lip's eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment, before his lips twisted into an amused smirk. "Really? You didn't even last a week this time."

"Lip, I don't wanna hear any of your shit-"

"Hey, whoa." Lip raised his soapy hands in supplication, shaking his head. "I wasn't gonna say anything. I think it's good."

Ian's lips relaxed into a cautious smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lip grabbed a hand towel from the counter, drying his hands as he considered his words. "You should probably let yourself be happy, as much as you can. Got enough bad shit going on. Embrace the good, right?"

Ian squinted at him, taken aback by the uncharacteristic sentiment. "Who the fuck _are_ you?"

Lip chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he pushed through his slight embarrassment. "I just think you deserve it, Ian."

Ian looked away, rubbing a hand over his eyes. His voice lowered to a hush. "Thanks."

Lip walked around the counter, clapping a hand on Ian's shoulder before pulling him into an abrupt hug. Ian jerked in surprise and returned the embrace, gripping tighter than Lip expected.

"See ya later, bro." Lip pulled away, smiling as he tried to lighten the mood. "Do us a favor and keep the marathon reunion sex over at Mickey's, yeah?"

Ian shook his head, mouth tugging up at the corners as he shoved Lip away lightly. "See ya later, asshole."

Lip watched out the window as he stepped through the back door and down the porch stairs. He turned away when Ian walked out of the yard and out of his sight, remembering the stack of dishes waiting for him in the sink. Sighing heavily, he set out to finish cleaning up.

*

Mickey stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he made his way back to his room. He ran a hand through his damp hair, reveling in the feeling of being clean and clear-eyed for the first time in days. Grabbing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt from his dresser, he pulled them on quickly, grabbing his phone from the shelf over his bed on his way out to the kitchen.

_Left some coffee for you. You gonna actually get up and be a person today?_

Mickey smirked at the message from his sister and typed a quick response.

_Already up AND showered, bitch_

Scrolling past Mandy’s name, Mickey saw he had another message waiting.

_Everything OK with army. No charges, Lip figured it out._

Mickey released a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding, nearly laughing as the immense relief coursed through him. Rubbing a hand over his face, he started to type a reply to Fiona.

_He doing o_

Mickey shook his head at himself, deleting and starting over.

_Good. Did he seem_

Groaning in frustration, Mickey erased again, settling on something simpler.

_Thanks_

Tossing his phone down on the kitchen table, Mickey grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee, leaning against the counter as he took a sip. He winced at the lukewarm temperature, a glance at the clock telling him Mandy had left for work nearly an hour ago. He put the cup in the microwave and set it for thirty seconds, watching absentmindedly as the mug revolved in circles.

Just before the timer went off, Mickey heard a knock at the door. He glanced back over his shoulder, squinting in confusion as he tried to figure out who would come around knocking this early in the day. Rolling his eyes, he stomped over to the door, yanking it open forcefully.

"We don't want any-"

Mickey stopped, his voice abruptly failing him as he met Ian's eyes. He drank in the sight of him, standing on the porch with his hands tucked into his back pockets, that one stubborn strand of his still too-long hair falling across his forehead.

"Hey, Mick." Ian attempted a smile but it wouldn't stick, sliding off his face and leaving him looking tired and a little sad.

Mickey swallowed, forcing words past the obstruction in his throat. "You okay?"

Ian nodded, eyes sweeping up and down Mickey's body like he was looking for something. "You?"

Mickey shrugged, letting go of the door to lean against the doorjamb, crossing his arms so tightly across his chest that his hands ended up tucked under his armpits. “Heard about the stuff with the army. But everything’s cool now?”

Ian raised his eyebrows. “Carl tell you?”

“Fiona.”

Ian laughed in disbelief. “Great. My family talks to you more than me, huh?”

Mickey bristled, his voice growing defensive. “She texted me before she knew about…” Mickey waved his hand between them in lieu of words, eyes dropping to the porch and shoulders sagging. “I’m sure she won’t be talkin’ to me anymore now that she does.”

“No, that’s not what I-” Ian let out a frustrated groan. Mickey looked back up to see a pained expression settling on his face. “I don’t want to take anything from you, Mickey. I really...I’m really happy my brothers and sisters love you.”

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t say that. Just got used to me bein’ around.”

Ian chuckled sadly. “You can’t see it, but I can. It’s more than that.” He sighed. “But you don’t see yourself the way you really are. Never have.”

Mickey straightened, shifting uncomfortably as his patience began to wear thin. “Why are you here, Ian?”

“Right.” Ian took a couple deep breaths, moving his hands from his pockets to settle at his sides. He looked up, catching Mickey’s gaze and holding it. “All that shit I said, about being scared I’ll hurt you again. I meant it.”

“Ian-”

Ian put a hand up to stop his protest. “It’s true. I don’t really like who I am right now. Might not for awhile, or ever again. I don’t know.” He paused, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “I thought it was right, letting you go. Maybe it is.”

Mickey shook his head in protest, but stayed quiet, recognizing that Ian wasn’t finished.

"But the thing is, Mick...” Ian paused, his eyes tearing up as they searched Mickey’s face. “The thing is, I'm selfish. And it turns out, I love you a lot more than I hate me."

Mickey sucked in a breath as his own eyes watered, and he felt his heart jump in his chest. "Yeah.” He cleared his throat, attempting to banish the rough edge in his voice. “Yeah, I know the feeling."

Ian smiled at him through his tears, fear and hope warring in his expression. “I’ll understand if you just want to cut your losses. But I thought maybe-”

Mickey surged forward, twisting his fists into the fabric of Ian’s shirt and tugging him down to crash their mouths together, his whole body electrifying at the touch. Ian released a startled gasp, moving quickly to wrap his arms around him and eagerly reciprocating the kiss. Mickey reached up to grip both sides of his face, licking along the seam of his lips until they parted, inviting Mickey inside.

Mickey groaned at the sensation, rubbing his tongue against Ian’s for a moment before taking a step back. He smiled when Ian gripped him tighter and moaned in protest. “Inside, come on,” he explained breathlessly. “Don’t need the neighbors to see us mauling each other.”

Ian smiled, tilting his head down to capture Mickey’s lips again. “I could not give less of a shit, Mickey.”

“What, you an exhibitionist now?” Mickey raised a brow, embarrassed at the dopey smile he knew was spreading across his face but helpless to stop it. “Only been a few days, you already picked up new kinks?”

Ian grinned back, moving his hands to the backs of Mickey’s thighs and pulling him up abruptly, catching Mickey off guard as he lifted him and stepped into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. He pushed Mickey into the opposite wall, settling more firmly against him as he licked back into his mouth.

Mickey gripped Ian’s hips tight, returning the kiss as he moved against him and groaning when he felt Ian’s hard length pressing into his. He pulled back, meeting Ian’s eyes with a question in his own.

Ian nodded, stepping back to let Mickey slide down the wall. Ian gripped his hand, towing him quickly toward the bedroom.

“Hey,” Mickey said softly, pulling Ian around to face him as they crossed the threshold of the room. “You sure? We don’t gotta rush if you’re not-”

Ian shook his head, closing the door and crowding Mickey back against it. “I’m sure, Mickey.” Ian swallowed hard, pressing their foreheads together as he moved to tug at the waistband of Mickey’s boxers. “I missed you.”

Mickey leaned forward to press their lips together, sucking on Ian’s bottom lip as he unfastened his belt and quickly pushed his jeans out of the way. He sighed as he wrapped his hand around him, stroking firmly and reveling in Ian’s quiet groan.

“I really fuckin’ missed you, too.”

*

Fiona crossed her arms as she inspected the three pregnancy tests lined up along the sink, checking again before releasing a long sigh of relief.

“Negative, all of ‘em.”

Debbie looked at her hopefully from her seat on the rim of the tub. “You sure?”

“Come see for yourself.” Fiona stepped to the side and grabbed Debbie’s hand, yanking her up and pushing her forward. She stayed close as Debbie looked down at the tests, wrapping an arm across her collarbone and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“Fiona,” Debbie gasped, reaching up to grip her wrist tightly. “Oh my god.”

Fiona squeezed her tighter, watching in the mirror as silent tears leaked down Debbie’s face. “Shit, I almost had a heart attack.”

Debbie turned to face her, burying her head in her neck and hugging her tightly around the waist. “I’m so stupid, I’m so _so_ stupid.”

“Hey,” Fiona whispered, grabbing her head in both hands and tugging her back to meet her eyes. “This kind of shit happens, Debs. I can't even tell you how many times I've been scared of the same thing. You did all the right stuff, it’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t,” Debbie whimpered, shaking her head. “I did something really dumb.”

Fiona paused, eyeing her cautiously. “What do you mean?”

Debbie stepped away, pressing her back against the door and sliding down to sit on the floor, pulling her knees up into her chest. She watched Fiona warily as she inhaled a shaky breath.

“I did it without a condom.” Debbie looked away, swallowing hard. “Before my pills started working.”

Fiona paused, looking at her in disbelief. "Did you _know_ they weren't working?"

Debbie nodded. "I heard what the doctor said. I knew."

Fiona felt a surge of anger rising up inside her, lips twisting as she opened her mouth to express it. She choked back her reaction when she saw the fear on Debbie's face, fighting to keep her tone even and free of accusation. “And you just decided to go ahead anyway?”

Debbie nodded, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Debs…” Fiona sat down in front of her, crossing her legs and scooting forward until she was pressed as close as she could get. She peered at her silently, trying to understand. “Why? Did Derek pressure you?”

Debbie shook her head vehemently, wiping a hand over her cheek. “He didn't do anything. I just really wanted to, and we didn’t have any condoms. But I figured, what are the odds?” She ran a finger over the hole in the knee of her jeans, tugging at the loose threads. “Lied to him about it, anyway.”

“About your birth control?”

“Yeah, I told him my pills were already working, that we were safe.” Debbie laughed humorlessly. “He’d be so pissed if he knew.”

Fiona squeezed her hand, remaining quiet as Debbie continued. “And I just forgot about it, like it was no big deal. But then I realized my period is a few days late and I remembered and I just kept thinking-what if that was it? What if that one stupid moment fucked the whole rest of my life up? What if I had to drop out of school to take care of a baby? Or get an abortion? How would we pay for that? Would I even be able to do it? What if Derek hated me forever for tricking him? What if you hated me, too, for being so stupid and making things harder and ruining everything? Fiona-”

Debbie collapsed against her knees, losing her ability to speak as sobs wracked through her body. Fiona felt tears rolling down her own face as she leaned forward, wrapping Debbie up in her arms as well as she could in their awkward positions.

"Shh, it's okay, baby." Fiona stroked a hand over her back, waiting patiently as Debbie continued sobbing. "It's okay."

When Debbie quieted, Fiona scooted back, reaching for the toilet paper roll. She pulled it off the holder, unwinding a few sheets and handing them over. Debbie scrubbed her face harshly as Fiona took a deep breath, trying to decide what to address first.

"I don't think you have to worry." Fiona handed her another wad of toilet paper, waiting as she blew her nose. "Your body's probably just adjustin’ to the medication, that's why you're late. Give it a couple days."

Debbie nodded, crossing her legs in front of her and lowering her hands to her lap, worrying the tissue between her fingers.

"But Debs, you can't let this happen again. You gotta be smart."

"I know." Debbie looked up at her imploringly. "It was only that one time, I swear. We've been using condoms ever since."

"I believe you." Fiona sighed, tugging on her ponytail. "But you gotta know, this is always gonna be a risk."

Debbie scowled. "It's so unfair. I have to worry about this every time I have sex. If I got pregnant, I'd be screwed no matter what. But Derek-"

"Could just walk away?" Fiona patted her knee sympathetically. "Believe me, I know. Girls got a shit deal."

"So what, I just keep doing it and hope nothing goes wrong?"

"Well." Fiona paused, unsure how Debbie would respond to her suggestion. "That's up to you. Just because you've had sex, that doesn't mean you have to keep havin' it."

Debbie looked at her skeptically. "Like I could just tell Derek I changed my mind? That's not fair."

Fiona shrugged. "Sure it is. You don't owe him anything, Debs. If you never wanted to have sex with him again, that'd be okay. And maybe he'd be pissed and he'd dump you, but if he does that, it just means he's not the right guy, not that you did somethin' wrong."

Debbie bit her lip. "I don't know if I'd wanna quit. I kind of like it."

"It's up to you to decide. I'm just sayin', you know the risk. Make sure if you're gonna take it, it's worth it to you, and you're doin' it because you really want to, not because you think you have to."

Debbie squinted at her, mouth twisting in suspicion. “That sounds like bullshit.”

“It’s not!”

“You’re telling me you don’t ever have sex with a guy unless you really want to _and_ he’s worth the risk of _getting pregnant _?”__

“Well.” Fiona paused, propping her elbow on her knee and resting her chin in her hand. “Okay, no. I don’t really think about it like that, I’m a fuckin’ hypocrite.” She laughed when Debbie pointed at her with a triumphant look, shaking her head. “But that doesn’t mean _you_ couldn’t, at least for now. You’re still so young, Debs, and I want so much for you. I want you to have everything, and gettin’ pregnant would make it a lot harder.”

Debbie nodded seriously, her posture relaxing as she accepted Fiona’s words. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Fiona stood, depositing the toilet paper roll on the sink and running the tap, splashing her face as she looked in the mirror. "God, I look like death. Jasmine's never gonna hire me."

"Of course she will, all you need is a shower," Debbie replied, standing next to her and splashing her own face. "And maybe some lipstick."

Fiona laughed, pulling at her cheek as she inspected the bags under her eyes. "Definitely gonna require a full makeup job."

Debbie nudged her shoulder lightly. "Thanks, Fiona. For being cool about this."

Fiona turned from the mirror to run a hand over her hair, smiling gently. "I love you no matter what, and you can always talk to me. Doesn't matter how bad you fuck up."

Debbie snorted, a real smile breaking out on her face for the first time that day. "Back atcha."

*

Ian ran his hand down Mickey’s spine, smiling when he saw goosebumps spring up in his wake. He leaned over to press a wet kiss to the nape of his neck, watching as Mickey’s cheeks moved in response, the obvious smile he was pressing into his pillow hidden from Ian’s view. Wanting to capture and keep it for himself, Ian gripped his shoulder and flipped him over, grinning at his surprised yelp.

“Think you’re a tough guy, huh?” Mickey reached up to scrub a hand through Ian’s hair, squirming around until he had Ian settled between his thighs.

“You love it,” Ian replied, smiling into his eyes as he lowered his weight more fully, pressing their naked bodies together from head to toe.

Mickey lifted his head to press a soft kiss against Ian's lips, chuckling when Ian chased him down and kept it going, pushing his tongue inside. Mickey brought his arms up around his neck as he hugged him in tighter with his thighs, breaking away to draw a line of kisses across his cheek.

“We gonna talk about it?” Mickey pressed his cheek against Ian’s, breathing into his ear.

Ian groaned, burrowing his face into Mickey’s neck and wrapping his arms up under his back, gripping his shoulders. “We have to? Right now?”

“Think so,” Mickey said apologetically.

Ian pulled back just enough to look Mickey in the eye. “You never wanted to before.”

Mickey nodded, sadness washing over his features. “Yeah, well. Trying to ignore it didn’t work out so good for me last time.”

Ian frowned lightly, leaning down to press another kiss to Mickey’s lips before settling lower, resting his head against Mickey’s chest and pulling his arms down to rest over his back. He stayed quiet for a moment as he considered where to start, stroking a hand over Mickey’s ribs.

“I need to take care of myself.”

Ian blinked in surprise, startled by the words coming from his own lips. He sat with them for a moment, nodding slightly against Mickey’s skin when he realized how true they were. "You gotta let _me_ handle taking my meds, and how much I eat and sleep and all that shit. It can’t be you bein' on me all the time, watching my every move and babying me, checking up on me all day like I’m gonna fall apart just because you leave for a few hours.”

“I don’t baby you,” Mickey argued, the hurt in his voice not lost on Ian.

“Mick,” Ian sighed, moving his arms down to rest on either side of Mickey’s torso so he could prop himself on his elbows and see his face. “You kind of do. It’s like you’re my nurse instead of my boyfriend, sometimes. Makes me feel like shit.”

Mickey clenched his jaw, fixing his eyes on the wall. “I thought…”

“What?”

“I thought you wanted all this shit. Me showing you-” Mickey stopped, frustration coming through as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. Ian reached out, running a soothing finger down the center of his forehead until it smoothed out again as Mickey released a long breath.

“You always said you wanted me to care. You wanted it so fuckin’ much.” Mickey met his eyes again, letting him see his confusion. “And now you say me carin’ about you makes you feel like shit. I don’t get it. What am I doin’ wrong?”

Ian felt his heart clench in his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Standing up on his knees, he moved to sit with his back up against the headboard, tugging Mickey up to sit shoulder to shoulder with him and pulling the sheets around their waists. “This is new to me, too. I’m not used to needing anyone’s help, and I hate it. I don’t really know what’s going to feel like too much, until it does.”

“Real fuckin’ helpful,” Mickey muttered. Ian laughed, reaching over to tangle their fingers together and pulling them up to kiss the back of Mickey’s hand.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Mickey. I already know.”

Mickey rubbed his thumb over Ian’s, biting his lip. “So you’ll just tell me? If I’m drivin’ you nuts, I mean. Or if things aren’t workin’ good with the meds.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” Ian slouched lower, resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder. “Just gotta trust me.” Ian felt Mickey tense underneath him, and lifted his head back up to look at him. “What?”

“Ian...” Mickey sighed, gripping his hand tighter. “I _do_ trust you, but it ain’t that simple, not anymore. Last time I took your word for it you were fine, you fuckin’-”

Ian pulled his hand away, raising a brow in challenge. “I fucking what?"

“You fucking made a porno!” Mickey shouted the words into the quiet of the room, shocking both of them. He buried his head in his hands before taking a deep breath and pushing on, voice muffled by his palms. “You risked your ass for a few hundred bucks, you let some guy fuck you without a condom, and then you fucking kidnapped my kid when I tried to talk to you about it.”

Ian felt his chin tremble, hit with the full force of his words. The knowledge that he had done those things was nothing compared to hearing them described so bluntly from Mickey’s lips. He opened his mouth to snap back, defensiveness rising inside him, but felt the instinct to fight flee when Mickey turned to look at him, face full of misery.

“Shit, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty about all that.” Mickey looked at him pleadingly. “I know it’s not really your fault. But what if it happens again? What if I’m not payin’ attention and things start to get bad again and I don’t notice in time?”

Ian looked down at the mattress, twisting his hands together as he searched for an answer. After a few moments, he sighed, admitting the truth. “I don’t know.”

He looked up to find Mickey watching him with a resigned expression. “Me either.”

Ian worried at his lip, warring with himself as Mickey’s words echoed in his mind. Before he could lose his nerve, he opened his mouth to speak again. “That stuff with the movie. You know that wasn’t…”

Mickey looked at him expectantly.

“I wasn’t trying to-I didn’t mean to cheat on you, Mick.” Ian’s voice picked up speed as he forced the words out in a rush. “I swear, it wasn’t like that.”

Mickey’s face fell as his eyes drifted to fix on his lap, wrapping the sheets in and around his fingers and twisting them back and forth. “I know that.” Ian sat silently, waiting as Mickey swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Was that the only time?”

“What?” Ian gasped, stricken.

Mickey looked at him again, the sheen in his eyes belying his casual shrug. “I just wondered. You were workin’ at the club a lot then. I wouldn’t be mad or nothin', but-”

“Mickey, no.” Ian felt his grasp on his own emotions slip as a tear escaped down his cheek. “I wasn’t fuckin’ around. I wouldn’t, I don’t want anyone else.”

“Okay, hey, I know.” Mickey reached out to wipe at the wetness under Ian’s eye, leaving his palm resting against his cheek. “Don’t get worked up, I'm not pissed. I just wanna clear the air, so we don’t gotta bring it up again.”

Ian latched onto Mickey’s wrist, pressing a kiss to his palm and holding his hand against his face as he closed his eyes, forcing out the confession. “There were...moments. There would be guys, it didn’t matter who, and I knew what they wanted, and part of me wanted to give it to them. I don’t know why.”

Ian opened his eyes to see his own troubled expression mirrored on Mickey’s face. “It was almost like little whispers in my head, telling me to do it, that it would feel good and it wasn’t a big deal. But I didn’t, Mickey.”

Mickey nodded, combing his hand back through Ian’s hair and pressing closer. “Alright.”

“And I don’t feel that anymore. It wasn’t really me, I don’t think.” Ian sighed heavily. “It was mania, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mickey said, tugging Ian down to press a kiss to his forehead before relaxing against him, draping himself over his torso. “I think it was.”

Ian wrapped his arm across Mickey’s back, hugging him closer and pressing his lips to his hair. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I wish I wasn’t like this. It’s not fair to you.”

Mickey tensed up, squeezing him tighter. “The fuck does that mean?”

Ian shrugged, feeling Mickey shift with the movement. “I know what you gave up for me. And now I’m someone different, someone you didn’t sign up for.”

Mickey pushed away from him and turned to face him fully, pinning him with a glare. “That ain’t how it works. You’re still the same stubborn pain in my ass you’ve always been. Don’t think you’re special now just ‘cause you got a diagnosis.”

Ian nearly laughed, choking in surprise. “I’m just saying, I get that it’s hard to be with me like this. You’re gonna have to put up with a lot of my bullshit.”

“I been puttin’ up with your particular brand of bullshit for years. It ain’t much different, to tell ya the truth."

Ian did laugh at that, hiding his face in his hands and letting out a frustrated groan. “Mick, I’m just trying to say I appreciate it. It can’t be easy, and I know you don’t have to stick around.”

“You gotta stop saying shit like that.”

“It’s the tru-”

"You don't get it.” Mickey put a hand up to silence him, thinking for a moment before meeting his eyes and speaking in a hushed voice. “I never thought I'd get to have this. Any of it.”

Ian looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to explain.

“Bein' with someone, feelin' happy all the time.” Mickey looked down as his cheeks turned red, tugging on a pulled thread in the bedsheets. “Knowing what it's like for someone to give a shit about you, even love you.”

“Mickey,” Ian sighed, reaching a hand out to skim over his arm.

“And fuck, that I get to have all that with you…” Mickey paused to take a heavy breath, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyelids. He moved them away a moment later, meeting Ian’s gaze with clear eyes. “Ian, there's nothin' better than that.”

Ian felt tears leaking down his cheeks again, but didn’t move to wipe at them, too enthralled by Mickey’s words.

“It's worth everything to me. _You_ are. Okay?"

Ian leaned forward, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to Mickey’s. “Okay.”

They stayed like that, breathing each other's air for a prolonged moment, until Ian closed the gap to slot his lips against Mickey's. He let himself be pulled down when Mickey fell onto his back, threading his fingers through Ian's hair to keep him close.

Ian moved his lips down to drag over Mickey's jaw, spurred on by his deep moan as he licked and sucked his way down his neck and torso, stopping to tease at his nipples with his tongue. He felt Mickey quickly growing hard between them and continued down, pressing a kiss to his abdomen before sinking lower, capturing the head of his cock in his mouth and sucking lightly.

"Ian," Mickey groaned, knees raising instinctively on either side of Ian's head to trap him there. Mickey reached down to stroke a hand through his hair and down his cheek. "Don't have to-"

Ian pulled off, placing a calming kiss to Mickey's palm before turning back to lick and kiss up Mickey's shaft. "Want to."

Mickey sighed in pleasure when Ian took him in his mouth again, working him with his tongue as his own cock stirred, slowly coming back to life. Ian pressed himself into the mattress as he continued bobbing his mouth up and down, a new thought occurring to him.

Ian glanced up to see Mickey laying back against the pillows, face flushed and eyes closed, a small smile tugging at his lips. Ian pulled his mouth away, kissing the head of Mickey's shaft before he pushed up on his arms, crawling up to align their hips and settle over him.

Mickey raised a brow, slowly blinking his eyes open to smile at Ian as he felt his hard cock rubbing against his. "Oh yeah?"

Ian shrugged, unable to stop an answering smile from overtaking his face. "Apparently. Feelin' good today."

"I can see that." Mickey pressed up to lick into his mouth again, winding his legs over Ian's and surging up to move against him.

"Haven't felt this good in a long time," Ian continued, holding Mickey's head in place as he leaned in for another deep kiss. "I don't want to waste it. Want to feel everything with you."

Mickey's eyes widened as he caught Ian's meaning. "Yeah?"

Ian nodded, biting his lip as Mickey reached down to palm his ass, running a finger over his dry hole.

"Anything you want," Mickey promised.

"I want it." Ian pushed back into Mickey's hand, encouraging him to keep teasing. "Want to feel you everywhere."

Mickey leaned up to kiss him again, wrapping an arm around his neck and urging him onto his back as he reached up with his other hand to grab the lube from the shelf over the bed. Ian moaned when Mickey pressed his slicked-up finger against him, teasing around his rim before pushing inside.

"Okay?" Mickey waited for Ian to open his eyes and nod, then pressed a fast kiss against his mouth. He moved down, sucking over Ian’s hip as he slowly added a second finger and began moving gently inside him, opening him up.

Ian winced slightly at the intrusion before relaxing, taking a deep breath and feeling his body start to adjust under Mickey’s attentions. He moved his head restlessly against the pillow, settling a hand on Mickey's neck as he took the head of his cock into his mouth. "More, Mickey."

Mickey obliged, pulling his fingers from Ian only to slick them up again, returning to push three inside him as he continued laving his tongue over him, keeping him distracted from the discomfort.

Ian felt himself start to shake, the sensations overwhelming him, and he tugged on Mickey's hair to get his attention. "Now, come on."

Mickey pulled off, pushing up on his hands to hover over Ian. "How do you want it?"

Ian shivered at the hoarseness in his voice, taking in how wrecked he looked, his messy hair and reddened lips and dilated eyes, loving that he was the cause. He extended his arms, dropping his legs open wide. "Come here."

Mickey crawled up his torso, groaning when Ian pulled him down to lick into his mouth and tightened his thighs around him, locking him in place between his legs. Mickey skimmed his hand down between them, lining himself up and pushing in steadily, holding there once he was firmly seated inside.

“Shit,” Mickey breathed against his mouth, leaning their foreheads together. “Feel so good. You okay?”

“Yeah, just…” Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey’s back, holding him still. “Just give me a minute.”

Mickey stroked his hand over Ian’s cheek, gazing down at him for a moment before he lowered his chin, snaking his tongue out to lick along Ian’s bottom lip. “Like it like this.”

Ian gripped his cheeks to pull him impossibly closer, rubbing their lips together. “Inside me?”

“Inside you, on top of you, you wrapped all around me.” Mickey pressed into Ian’s mouth, stroking his tongue languidly against his. “Seein’ your face.”

Ian ran his hands down Mickey’s spine, sliding his palms over his ass and bucking up against him lightly, letting him know it was okay to move. “I love it like this.”

Ian lost the ability to speak when Mickey began stroking into him, lifting onto his elbows for better leverage but keeping his body close, letting Ian feel him sliding over him as his abdomen rubbed against his cock. He kept up a steady rhythm, building the intensity until Ian felt he would burst out of his skin.

“Fuck,” Mickey groaned, gripping Ian’s hip as he changed the angle and slipped in deeper, Ian making a choked sound as he hit him just right. “Not gonna last, Ian.”

“Touch me,” Ian gasped, moaning when Mickey shifted to grip his shaft with one hand, stroking him as he continued thrusting into him at an uneven pace, rhythm deteriorating. It only took a few strokes before Ian was coming hard, vision blanking out as he surged up, hearing Mickey groan loudly and follow him over.

Ian blinked his eyes open some time later, smiling warmly at Mickey where he’d collapsed on top of him, face pressed into his shoulder. He reached up a hand to stroke over the back of Mickey’s head as he turned to him with his own wicked smile.

“Felt that, didn’t ya?”

Ian snorted, laughing happily and wrapping his arms around Mickey, hugging him close. “Yeah, I did.”

*

Lip scanned his eyes over the last sentence of the chapter, scrawling one final line in his notes before throwing his pen down triumphantly. Sighing, he slumped back into the couch and picked up his mass transfer textbook, flipping through the next few chapters and holding the pages in his hand to gauge how much reading he still had to finish before he was caught up in the class.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, testing the weight between his fingers with a heavy sigh.

"Catchin' up on homework?" Fiona appeared on the landing of the stairs, twisting her damp hair over her shoulder as she made her way down to the living room.

"Trying." Lip slammed the textbook closed, tossing it onto the cushion next to him and flopping his head back, tilting his chin up to look at her upside down. "And failing. I'm basically fucked."

Fiona raised her brows at him as she made her way over to the front door, pushing it open and bending her arm around the doorframe to reach the mailbox. She retrieved the mail that had been piling up for several days, flipping through the envelopes as she settled in the chair across from him. "What's the problem?"

Lip ran a hand over his hair, his eyes sliding away. "Got pretty far behind."

Fiona eyed him uneasily. "Because you've been here?"

"I guess, yeah."

Fiona sighed, looking back down at the mail resting in her lap. She smiled suddenly, holding something up in her hand and waving it in his direction. His eyes widened when he saw the postcard featuring a desert landscape and the word Sedona scrawled in orange cursive across the top.

"Sheila?"

"Yeah." Fiona read over the message on the back, her smile widening. "Karen and Hymie are doing great. Sheila thinks the desert air is healthy for them. Planning to stay awhile."

"Good for them."

Fiona jumped up to walk towards the kitchen and place the postcard on the side of the refrigerator, sliding a magnet over to hold it in place. She smoothed a hand over it one more time before stepping back into the living room, plopping down on the cushion next to Lip and nudging his thigh with her foot.

"Alright, what's goin’ on with school?"

Lip raised a brow, feigning ignorance.

"You've been here too much lately, I know you gotta be missing class. And you looked like shit this mornin'. Fight with your girlfriend style shit."

"Didn't know my presence in the house was so unwelcome."

Fiona shook her head, her tone growing impatient. "Knock if off. Talk to me."

Lip crossed his arms over his chest, lips pinching together in aggravation. "It's too much."

"What is? The work? You never had trouble keepin’ up with your school work before."

Lip barked out a laugh. "That's because I never used to do any. And you kinda missed the show last semester, bein’ incarcerated and all."

Fiona rubbed a hand over her forehead, her mouth pinching up in the corner like it always did when she was trying not to snap at him. Lip felt something in him relax, strangely comforted by the familiar sight, and reached over to tap her foot with his finger.

"Sorry, low blow."

Fiona met his eyes, clasping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees, pinning him in place with her gaze. "Just tell me what's goin' on."

Lip ran his finger over the spine of his textbook. "I don’t know. Amanda thinks I'm 'self-sabotaging'. Thinks I want to fail so I can come back home and ditch the responsibility."

Fiona quirked a brow. "That girlfriend of yours is no dummy."

"That's not what it is," Lip argued. "At least, that's not all it is."

"So what, then? 'Cause I don't know what's goin' on with you lately, but you seem to keep findin' excuses to be here when I know you gotta be somewhere else."

Lip clenched his jaw, wiping a hand over his mouth. "So you just want me to go to school and forget you guys? Just study and go to stupid college parties and fancy dinners with Amanda's family, and stop thinking about whether you have enough money to pay the electricity this month, or if Ian's got some fun new side effect, or if Carl and Debbie are getting into trouble again, or how Liam's doing in preschool? I'm just supposed to move on and start this new life without you?"

Fiona's expression dimmed as she listened to him, even as her head bobbed in agreement. "Yeah, I think that's what you're supposed to do."

Lip laughed in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"You can't do this half in, half out shit anymore, Lip. It's not working." Fiona lifted her hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to retort. "And I know it's my fault you had to do it last year. I fucked up, and I made it harder for you. But that's not gonna happen again. I'm here, and I got things under control."

Lip shook his head. “Maybe I’m not ready to let it go that easy.”

Fiona bit her lip, trepidation blooming on her face. “You still don’t trust me.”

Lip shook his head, avoiding her gaze.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You think I’m gonna fuck up again.” Fiona sighed, worrying a strand of her damp hair through her fingers. “I’m doin’ better now, Lip. I’ve been tryin’ to prove it you guys.”

Lip frowned, remembering the earlier events of the day. “That what you were doing with Jimmy this morning? Proving how much you’ve changed?”

Fiona frowned back at him. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Lip turned to face her, his voice growing more heated. “I found that list you made. With all the goals?” Lip’s mouth twisted, voice taking on a sardonic tone. “Fiona’s guide to being a better person.”

Fiona’s mouth dropped open in surprised hurt, stung by his mockery.

“And you've been doing all that shit. Ian’s on his meds, Carl’s not in juvie, Liam’s doing fine in school. I don’t know what the fuck was goin' on with Debbie earlier, but you handled that, too. You’re on top of shit. But all it takes is one slip up, one night with that sleazy douchebag, and you’re back to the same old bad habits.”

“And what about you, huh?” Fiona stood from the couch, crossing her arms over her chest defensively and glaring down at him. “Bein’ a dick to your girlfriend and blowin’ off school, trying to use us as an excuse to fail. You wanna talk shit about old habits, take a look at yourself!”

Lip stood to face her, mirroring her stance. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Like hell I don’t!” Fiona pushed closer, clenching her fists at her sides.

They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, breathing heavily. Finally, Fiona knitted her brows, confusion breaking through her anger.

“Why are we screamin’ at each other?”

Lip blinked in surprise. “Uh…” He thought it over, smirking when he came to a realization. “Old habits?”

Fiona groaned, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Sit your ass down.”

Lip complied, letting out a sigh of relief when she sat down next to him, pressing their shoulders together.

“It really bother you that much, seein’ Jimmy back here?”

Lip held his hands up. “Look, it’s your business. I’m just saying, all this stuff you’ve been workin’ toward, with the steady job and stability and focusing on the kids. You really think Jimmy fits with all that?”

“He did before,” Fiona insisted. “He helped out all the time, pitched in with Liam and got along with all you guys.”

Lip snorted. “Yeah, ‘til he hatched an escape plan behind your back and then fucked off with no warning.”

Fiona blanched, rubbing at her temples. “Yeah, he did do that, didn’t he?”

“Fi,” Lip sighed and shook his head, nudging her knee with his. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time, okay? But I saw what happened last time. Don’t let him do it to you again.”

“And you?” Fiona turned to look at him pointedly. “You gonna let yourself fuck everything up with Amanda ‘cause you’re scared?”

“I’m not-”

“Lip,” Fiona interrupted, shaking her head. “No point trying to bullshit me.”

Lip sat silently, thinking it over. "Everything with her is just so much, you know?"

"Serious, you mean?"

"I guess." Lip ran his fingers over the face of his watch, tracing around the edges. "She's all wrapped up with school and the future and-"

"Change?" Fiona smiled at him sympathetically.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for it. Any of it."

Fiona sighed, slumping against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I don't think we get a choice about when we meet people who change us. Shit, look at Ian and Mickey. They're still just kids, but I think they're in it for the long haul. Once Ian pulls his head outta his ass, anyway."

Lip chuckled. "In process as we speak."

Fiona pulled away, smiling in surprise. "Really? Already?"

“Yep, went over there this morning."

"Damn, that was faster than I thought. I owe Debs a twenty."

They sat quietly for a moment, Lip feeling some of the tension inside him unfurling. He turned his head to see Fiona watching him fondly.

"What I'm sayin' is, Amanda's here now, and you seem happy with her. Don't fuck it up 'cause you're psychin’ yourself out about the rest."

Lip scratched a hand through his hair, blowing out a long breath as he caught sight of his textbook out of the corner of his eye. "Should probably go back to school, huh?"

Fiona nodded. "And stay there this time."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You really gonna be okay without me?"

"We'll figure it out," Fiona promised, reaching over to grab his hand and grip it tight. "Go do what you gotta do, and we'll still be here when it's done."

Lip sighed, covering his sister’s hand with his own and holding on for just a few minutes more.

*

Fiona stood on the sidewalk in front of Jasmine’s office, taking in the ordinary facade of the brick building. She traced over the golden lettering on the frosted window with her eyes, feeling the nervous anticipation bubbling up inside of her, leaving her both giddy and nauseous. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door, plastering a smile on her face as she approached the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi, I’m here to see Jasmine.” Fiona’s smile faltered when the twenty-something man behind the desk shot her a dirty look, turning back to his computer screen without a word. “Um, she’s expecting me.”

“She was expecting you this morning, too,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for the phone and eyeing her up and down as he punched in a quick sequence of numbers. “Your 2 o’clock, or should I say your rescheduled 9 o’clock, is here.”

Fiona gulped, taken aback by the attitude. She reached up to make sure her earrings were hanging straight, rubbing the toe of her boot in a small circle on the carpet as she looked around. The space was small but cozy, with oversized armchairs flanked by dark wood furniture and a large wooden door at the back of the room.

“She’ll be right with you,” he said a moment later, setting the phone back in its cradle. Fiona tried for a smile again, but all she got in return were pinched lips and a raised brow.

“Fiona,” Jasmine called as she poked her head out of the door, beckoning for her to walk that way. “Come on back.”

Fiona followed her down a quiet hallway and into an office with a large desk in the corner and a brown leather couch against the wall. She took a seat on the couch when Jasmine directed her there, eyes scanning over the photos of Jasmine and her children on the nearby bookshelf, and the binders spread out on the coffee table.

“Sorry about Michael,” Jasmine said, reaching for a folder on her desk and coming to sit on the other side of the couch. At Fiona’s confused look, she cocked her head towards the door. “My receptionist. He’s a little overprotective.”

“Oh, right.” Fiona laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry again for missin’ our appointment this morning.”

Jasmine nodded in acknowledgment, peering at her curiously. “You get your old problem straightened out?”

“Workin’ on it,” Fiona replied, catching herself fidgeting with her skirt and clasping her hands together in her lap to control it. “But it definitely won’t be a problem again. I really appreciate you givin’ me another chance for an interview.”

Jasmine shot her an understanding smile, relaxing into the couch and tapping the folder in her hand. "So let me give you a little background about the job. I've been up and running for about a year and a half now. Got the funds for the initial investment from my old friend David, you remember him?"

Fiona's eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah, of course."

Jasmine grinned conspiratorially. "It was a kind of...settlement, I guess you could say. He wanted me to go away, and I demanded compensation."

"Oh," Fiona said awkwardly. "Sorry, that must have sucked."

"Don't worry about it, Fiona." Jasmine sighed, skimming a hand across her shoulders to push her hair back. "I wasn't in the best place then. But after it was over, I decided to be smart and take that payoff and do something real with it. I wanted some security for myself, and my kids. And I figured, why not turn my unique skill set into a business?"

Fiona nodded. "Sounds smart to me."

"So here we are. I employ about two dozen escorts, and our client base is growing every day. We get most of them through word of mouth, friends of friends who've heard about us. It’s all very discreet, due to the sensitive nature of the services we provide.” Fiona felt her face freeze, Jasmine’s mouth quirking up on one side in response. “Not to worry- we keep it on the right side of the law, but most of our clients don’t want anyone knowing they pay for a companion, even if prostitution isn’t involved.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway,” Jasmine continued, gesturing toward the binders. “I've been having trouble keeping up with demand. That's where you come in. I need someone to meet with clients, introduce them to the way we do things here. It's a job for a real people person, someone who can put clients at ease. I'm also looking to recruit more escorts, and I'll need help with scouting and onboarding."

“Onboarding?” Fiona squinted in confusion, before a memory from her time at World Wide Cups surfaced. “Oh, like training and gettin’ ‘em set up.”

“Exactly.” Jasmine passed the folder in her lap over to Fiona. "Here's an official job description, and an overview of the benefits package. The job would be long hours and it requires some weekend work, but your schedule would be flexible. You could arrange it around your kids however you need to."

Fiona took a deep breath as her eyes scanned down the first page, overwhelmed by the information. She tried to control her excitement as she flipped to the details on the insurance package, seeing that it included dental and vision, too. "This all sounds...wow." Fiona shook her head, getting her thoughts clear. "I'm honored you'd even think of me for it, the job sounds amazing."

Jasmine waved her hand at the papers in Fiona’s lap. "And do you think you'd be a good fit for it? Is it something you'd want to do?"

"It sounds perfect, actually. I've been hopin’ to get back into somethin’ steady in an office where I could still interact with people. I took this aptitude test a while back, with my P.O." Fiona paused, wondering whether it was a mistake to bring it up.

"It's okay, Fiona," Jasmine reassured her. "I know all about that, and like I told you, I don't mind."

Fiona raised a brow. "How do you know about it?"

"I have a private investigator on retainer for background checks, helps keep my escorts safe." Jasmine shrugged. "Also had him look into everyone interviewing for this position."

"Wow." Fiona blinked in surprise, not sure how she felt about that. "So you really do know it all, huh?"

"Yes, and you don't need to worry. I'm not one to judge a woman for going through a hard time, and it seems like you're in great shape now, anyway."

Fiona nodded, feeling relief course through her. "I’ve been doing good. And I really think I'd be good at this job."

Jasmine smiled. "I think so, too. I'll be honest, when I saw you earlier this week, it felt like a sign to me. I've been struggling with hiring for this position, giving so much power over my business to someone else. I want it to be someone I can really trust, and someone I like and can have fun with. As far as I'm concerned, the job is already yours. So what I need to know is, do you want to do this with me?"

Fiona felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth as a startled laugh bubbled out of her throat. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Jasmine’s smile dimmed slightly as she turned more serious. “But I need to know that you’ll really be committed to this, Fiona.”

“I will be,” Fiona rushed to reassure her. “I am. Jasmine, this is…” She swallowed hard, overcome by relief and happiness. “This is a dream come true for me. I won’t let you regret it.”

“Good. I’ll give you a chance to look through all the paperwork, and we can meet again later this week to negotiate title and salary and go over all the details.”

Fiona nodded, eyes drifting back to the pictures of Jasmine’s family. Her gut twisted with guilt as old memories came rushing back. “I want to apologize.”

Jasmine looked at her in surprise. “What for?”

“I wasn’t a very good friend to you, back then. When things started goin’ bad for you.” Fiona sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I was just too wrapped up in my own shit, but I shouldn’t have abandoned you like that. You were always such a good friend to me. And now here you are, givin’ me this amazing offer. I don’t know why, but I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Jasmine smiled sadly. “I don’t hold that against you, Fiona. I was a wreck.” Jasmine chuckled, tapping Fiona on the knee. “And hey, we’ve already seen the worst of each other, right? Nowhere to go but up. I’d like us to be friends again.”

“I’d like that, too.”

Jasmine exhaled, slumping back against the couch. “Well alright, then. It’s settled, we’re gonna be friends, and we’re gonna make this business even more kickass than it already is.”

“I can’t wait,” Fiona said sincerely.

“Now all I need is to hire a manager for the escorts, and I’ll be set.”

“A manager?” Fiona asked, curious.

“Yeah. I’ll go over the organizational structure I’m envisioning with you at our next meeting, but basically I want someone who can help keep tabs on the escorts, make sure they have everything they need, prep and debrief them for events, that sort of thing. I was doing it on my own at first, but now it’s getting to be too much.”

Fiona felt the stirring of an idea, biting her lip as she quickly thought it over. “Did you already start interviewing for that position, too?”

Jasmine nodded. “I did, but I haven’t found the right person yet.”

“I think I might know someone who’d be perfect.” Fiona nodded to herself, growing more confident in the idea the more she considered it. She shot Jasmine an inviting smile, raising a brow. “You busy tonight?”

*

“Shit, you really had a showdown, huh?”

Mickey watched Ian’s face as he nodded, looking for any signs that he was more upset than he was letting on.

“Yeah, it was kind of intense.” Ian closed his eyes and shifted to lie on his back again, reaching out blindly for Mickey’s hand. “Was happy to see her, though, even if she won’t stick around. It’s good to know she’s okay. Well, okay for Monica.”

“Maybe she’ll come around,” Mickey offered, though he didn’t succeed in covering the doubt in his voice. “Never know.”

“Yeah,” Ian sighed, no more convincing. “Maybe.”

Mickey lay down beside Ian, settling his head against his shoulder and reaching across his torso to grab his opposite hand, pulling it closer and threading their fingers together. “You still wanna stay at your sister’s place?”

Ian pressed a kiss to Mickey’s brow, head moving subtly back and forth against his. “I wanna stay here. With you.”

Mickey tilted his head back to meet his eyes, trying to gauge his feelings. “I’d still stay with you over there, if you want. Don’t mind.”

Ian grinned, snaking his hand down to press into Mickey’s spine. “You love it, don’t you? All that quality time with the Gallaghers.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey laughed, twisting Ian’s fingers tighter in his grasp. “I tolerate your family for you. ‘Cause I’m a great fuckin’ boyfriend, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Tolerate, my ass,” Ian snickered, pressing his lips against Mickey’s temple. “I’m just waiting for you and Fiona to exchange friendship bracelets. Any day now.”

Ian yelped when Mickey shook his hand loose, grabbing his nipple and twisting. Ian gripped his sides hard in retaliation, flipping him onto his back and pinning him down.

“Don’t get mad just ‘cause I know the truth,” Ian laughed, pressing his face against Mickey’s and whispering into his ear. “And trust me, I notice.”

Mickey sighed blissfully, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Ian. “Sure you wanna stay here?”

Ian sunk into the embrace, resting his weight fully on Mickey. “Yeah. I wanna be in _our_ space, sleep in _our_ bed. It was nice to be with them for awhile, but it’s not really home anymore.”

Mickey pressed a kiss to his cheek, the relief at hearing him say that nearly overwhelming him. “We’ll go get our shit later.”

Mickey frowned when his phone went off twice in rapid succession, irritated that someone was trying to invade their bubble. He squeezed Ian tighter, determined to ignore it, but it went off again a moment later, causing Ian to laugh and shift away from him.

“I think someone really wants to talk to you.”

Mickey grabbed his arm, halting his movement. “Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Let me just see, Mick.” Ian reached his long arm over to grab the phone, glancing at the screen. “It’s Iggy.”

“Fuck.” Mickey rubbed a hand over his eyes, taking the phone from Ian and rolling onto his stomach, unlocking it to read the messages. “Was supposed to meet him, forgot.”

“Whoops.” Ian laid down across his back, biting lightly into his shoulder. “He still want you to go? Because I’m gonna have some objections.”

Mickey smirked, reaching back to run a hand through Ian’s hair, tugging lightly. “Nah, he can handle it, just some business stuff.”

“Oh.”

Mickey sent a quick message to Iggy and tossed his phone away, slumping down into the mattress.

“Problems?” Ian asked, stroking his hands down Mickey’s sides.

“Nah, just the usual shit,” Mickey groaned as Ian shifted up and started kneading his hands around his spine.

“We never finished talking about it,” Ian started, then fell silent.

Mickey lifted his head to peer over his shoulder. “What?”

“You said you got back into it because we needed the money.” Ian’s expression was troubled, guilt clouding his eyes. “But do you even want to do it anymore? You were trying to get out of it before everything happened with me.”

Mickey shrugged. “Not really about want.”

“But it should be,” Ian said insistently, dropping down to lay beside Mickey and turning his head to face him. Mickey scooted closer, wanting to feel his warmth. “I don’t want you doing dangerous shit you don’t even like just for me.”

“Meds are fuckin’ expensive, Ian. We gotta be realistic.”

Ian shook his head. “That’s not on you. Or at least, not _just_ on you. I’m not cool with you putting yourself at risk while I barely do my part.”

“So what do we do instead?”

“Fiona’s up for a job with benefits.” Ian flipped onto his back, pulling Mickey over to rest across his stomach. “If she lands it, I could get on her insurance. It’ll make it way more manageable.”

Mickey bit his lip, tracing his fingers over the cluster of freckles on Ian’s left shoulder. “Maybe. _If_ that job comes through with the insurance and all that...I been thinkin’ it’d be good to try somethin’ more legit. _Real_ legit, not like the moving truck.”

Ian raised a brow. “Really?”

Mickey shrugged self-consciously. “Don’t really have any job skills, but I could probably figure somethin’ out. Mandy’s doin’ it, seems to like it okay.”

“What brought this on?”

Mickey relaxed, relieved at the lack of judgment in Ian’s tone, only curiosity. “I was thinkin’, what if I got picked up on something? I can’t go inside again, not now.” He gripped Ian tighter as he spoke, making his meaning clear. “And I thought maybe you’d like it, if I had a real job.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Mickey scratched a finger over his eyebrow, averting his eyes. “Somethin’ to tell people besides pimp or thug.”

“Hey.” Ian grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes up to meet his. "You don't have to change anything about yourself for me."

Mickey looked at him uncertainly.

“Mickey, I love you. _You_.” Ian gazed at him seriously, waiting until Mickey nodded before continuing. “If you wanted to keep doing this shit forever, I wouldn’t try to stop you. And I wouldn’t be ashamed. Never have been.”

Mickey blinked rapidly to hold back the moisture he could feel gathering in his eyes. "What if _I_ wanted a change? You know…” Mickey waved his hand in agitation, trying to get the words out. “For me, not just for you."

"Then I would help you figure it out."

Mickey’s eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Yeah.” Ian gripped his face with two hands, pressing a hard kiss to his lips. “We take care of each other, right?"

Mickey smiled. "That's right." He pressed forward, connecting their lips again as he moved to settle more fully on top of Ian, stretching out so their skin touched everywhere he could reach. He groaned when Ian brought one of his big hands up to palm at his ass, grinding into him lightly until he was distracted by a loud grumbling.

Breaking away, Mickey lifted up on his hands to raise a brow at Ian as his stomach rumbled again. “Hungry?”

Ian laughed. “It has been...a lot of hours since breakfast.”

Mickey reached for his phone to check the time. “Shit, yeah. And you gotta take your-” Mickey clamped his mouth shut, looking down at Ian uncertainly.

Ian sighed. “Mick, I’m not gonna bite your head off every time you mention it.”

“No?” Mickey asked doubtfully. He leaned down to press a fast kiss to Ian’s lips before pushing himself off the bed and searching for his clothes. “You bring ‘em with you?”

“Yeah.” Ian spotted both of their boxers on the other side of the bed, leaning over to reach for them. He tossed Mickey’s over, pulling his own up his legs. “They’re in my jacket pocket. Was kind of hopin’ I’d be staying awhile.”

Mickey smiled at him over his shoulder before bending down to grab his t-shirt, pulling it on quickly. “I’ll go grab us food, think we got diner leftovers in the fridge. Am I allowed to bring you water, too, or is that too much?”

Ian rolled his eyes, speaking in a monotone. “Water sounds amazing. Thank you, Mickey.”

Mickey flipped him off and reached for the doorknob, pausing when Ian called for him softly. He turned back, surprised to see Ian smiling at him gently.

“Thanks, Mickey,” he repeated, more sincerely this time.

Mickey blushed, turning back to pull the door open and making his way quickly to the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw Svetlana, Mandy and Yevgeny sitting at the kitchen table, their sudden presence startling after the day alone with Ian.

“When did you get home?”

“Just a few minutes ago, worked a regular instead of a double for once,” Mandy answered, smoothing her hair back behind her ear as she took a bite of the omelet on her plate. “Brought you dinner.”

“Uh, thanks.” Mickey eyed Svetlana as she fed Yevgeny a bite of applesauce, trying to assess her mood. She looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked in irritation.

“Take picture, it lasts longer.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Look, I gotta talk to you about someth-”

“Mick, do you have any...” Ian stepped out of their room, trailing off when he saw them all gathered around the table.

Mandy gasped in delight, shooting Ian a grin before she caught sight of Svetlana’s face and flattened her lips, looking back down at her plate.

“Svetlana,” Ian stuttered, pill container rattling in his hand as he gestured nervously. “I didn’t know you were back.”

Mickey winced. “Sorry, forgot to tell you.”

Mandy smirked. “Reunion sex really dulls the senses. You two reek, by the way. How long you been goin’ at it?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mandy,” Mickey retorted, grabbing a glass and walking to the sink to fill it from the tap. He brought it over to Ian, trying to apologize with his eyes as he offered it up. Ian sighed, popping his pills into his mouth and chasing them with a large gulp of water.

“You are taking medicines now?” Svetlana asked, arms crossed over her chest as she eyed him cautiously.

“Yeah.” Ian shuffled on his feet, running a hand through his hair. Mickey pressed a hand into his back, urging him over to sit next to Mandy at the table. Once he took a seat, Mickey ran a reassuring hand over his shoulder and pressed a kiss against his temple before heading over to the cabinet to grab two plates.

“They make you not crazy anymore?”

Mickey glanced back over his shoulder, catching Ian’s wince. “Hey, don’t be a-”

“It’s okay, Mick.” Ian held up his hand to stop him, turning back to meet Svetlana’s eyes. “They help control my moods. Keep me even. So I don’t get too low or too high.”

Svetlana squinted at him, tapping a finger against her chin. “No more lay in bed for week, or fill house with shit all the way to ceiling?”

“Right.” Ian looked down at the table, gripping it tight to keep his fingers steady as unwelcome memories flitted through his mind. “That’s the idea, anyway.”

“Do they stop you from kidnapping helpless baby?” Venom was creeping back into her voice. She discarded the applesauce and lifted Yevgeny from his high chair, pulling him over to sit on her lap and hugging him close.

Mickey sat down next to Ian, watching him closely as his face fell. He opened his mouth to defend Ian, but swallowed it down, opting to let him handle it. He turned his attention to the cardboard container in the center of the table instead, splitting the ham and cheese omelet and home fries Mandy had brought him in two and setting half in front of Ian as he waited for him to speak.

“I’m sorry, Svetlana.” Ian’s voice broke on her name, but he kept his head up, meeting her gaze steadily. “I never meant to put Yev in danger. I didn’t get that something was wrong. But I do now, and I’m workin’ on it.”

Mickey scooted closer to press their shoulders together as Mandy reached out to grasp Ian’s hand. He looked up at Svetlana, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “Ian’s comin’ back. You gonna have a problem with that?”

Svetlana clenched her jaw, running a hand back and forth over Yevgeny’s head as she considered. “He will not be alone with baby.” She locked eyes with Ian, sympathy fighting with traces of anger. “Not until I can see with own eyes that you are really better.”

Ian nodded in acceptance, his eyes falling to Yevgeny’s face. “How’s he been doing? He start teething yet?”

Svetlana watched him, one corner of her mouth tugging up slightly. “He drive me crazy, crying all through night. I do not sleep.”

“You should get some of that numbing gel,” Ian suggested, slowly relaxing into his chair. He grabbed his fork, taking a bite of his omelet as his voice took on a carefully casual tone. “We used it for Liam, helped a lot.”

Mickey looked back and forth between them, sighing in relief as cautious smiles bloomed around the table. He started in on his own dinner, hunger returning now that the tension of the moment had passed. He glanced up at Mandy when her phone went off, her smile widening as she read the message.

“Looks like party at the Gallagher house tonight.” Mandy grinned at Ian, waggling her eyebrows. “I think she got the job.”

Mickey smiled, turning to meet Ian’s eyes. “Well, how about that. Good day, yeah?”

Ian grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear. “Best day.”

“Lana, she said to make sure you come, too,” Mandy continued, shrugging at Svetlana’s surprised face. “I don’t know, said she wants you to meet someone.”

Svetlana shrugged as she stood from the table. “I will go. Will be good to see Amy and Gemma, Zhenya miss his baby friends.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Great, we’ll all go together. Big fuckin’ happy family.”

Svetlana raised an unimpressed brow, then paused, looking back and forth between them uncertainly with Yevgeny propped on her hip. “I take shower. You will sit with baby?”

Mandy nodded. “Yeah, we got him.”

Svetlana stepped past Mickey, hovering over Ian’s shoulder. She waffled for a moment before she took a deep breath and released it, settling a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “You take him?”

Ian looked up fast, eyes widening in surprise. “Yeah.” He reached out, accepting Yevgeny from her and pulling him into his chest. He ran a hand over his head, pressing a kiss to his nose as his eyes started to tear up again. “Hey, little guy. I missed you.”

Mickey watched Ian’s face light up as Yevgeny let out a happy squeal and grabbed at his chin, something tugging hard in his chest at the sight of their reunion. He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Ian’s shoulder. “Okay?”

Ian met his eyes, smiling through the sheen of tears. He looked up at Svetlana and over to Mandy, his eyes drifting around the house as he released a deep sigh of contentment. “It’s good to be home.”

*

Lip fidgeted with the strap of his backpack as he approached the apartment door, stopping in his tracks a few feet away as his doubts came rushing back. His eyes settled on the strip of light shining through the crack above the welcome mat, indicating that someone was home. Running a hand across his mouth, he took a deep breath and forced himself to take the remaining steps, knocking quickly.

Amanda opened the door a moment later, her face freezing at the sight of him. They stood in silence, eyeing each other cautiously, until Amanda finally crossed her arms, standing in the half-open doorway like a blockade.

“Didn’t expect to see you again.”

Lip blanched. “Really? You thought I’d just leave it like that?”

Amanda shrugged, tone hardening. “Figured you didn’t have time to deal with spoiled little rich girls.”

Lip felt his shoulders slump as his eyes fell to the floor, the realization that she wasn’t going to make this easy settling over him. He pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose, thinking carefully about his words. "Look, about last night-"

"You don't need to bother explaining,” Amanda interrupted, her face twisting in sarcasm. “I obviously don’t understand you or your life at all, so what would be the point?"

“You scare me,” Lip blurted out suddenly, wincing when he saw her mouth drop open in shock.

“I _scare_ you?” Amanda asked him disbelievingly, reaching up to push her glasses more firmly against her face, as if she wasn't seeing things right.

“Yeah.” Lip sighed, scratching a hand over his eyebrow. “All of this is new to me. Giving a shit about school, working a real job, thinking about the future. Think I’m kinda in over my head.”

Amanda raised a brow. “And how is that my fault?”

“It’s not,” Lip admitted, shrugging sheepishly. “You’re just an easy target. And it’s all kind of...tangled up with you, in my head.”

“Great, so I get to play scapegoat for all your insecurities.” Amanda shook her head, reaching for the edge of the door. “Thanks a lot for stopping by to tell me.”

“Amanda, wait.” Lip shot his arm out to block the door’s progress. “I’m sorry.”

Amanda’s face softened momentarily before she caught herself, narrowing her eyes again. “Sorry for what?”

“All that shit I said to you last night, it wasn’t fair.” Lip shifted on his feet, adjusting the strap of his bag to sit higher on his shoulder. “Wasn’t really about you, anyway.”

Amanda snorted. “No kidding.”

“And I’m sorry I’ve been blowing you off,” he continued, figuring he may as well go for broke. “You’ve been helping me a ton, and I appreciate it.”

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out,” Amanda interjected laughingly. “I don’t even know who you are. Where’s the charming prick I know and lo-”

Lip’s eyes widened as he waited to see if she would finish the thought, but instead she looked away, swallowing visibly.

“You could have just told me,” she continued quietly. “If it was too much. If _I’m_ too much.”

“That’s not it.” Lip dropped his bag on the ground and raised his hands imploringly. “I like it, all of it. I like knowing you’re gonna be there when I get home, that you’ll help me out if I get stuck on something, that I can always call you when I want to.” Lip pushed on, his voice rising in volume and intensity. “I like that you care about my family, that you listen to me bitch about the same shit over and over, that you always want me around.”

“So then what’s the problem?” Amanda asked in exasperation.

“I don’t like that I like it!” Lip threw his hands up in frustration, jumping in surprise when the door to his right opened abruptly.

Amanda’s neighbor peeked her head out into the hallway. “You okay?” she asked, glaring at Lip and waving her phone in his direction. “I can call campus security if he’s bugging you. I have the number right here.”

Amanda smirked at him, letting him dangle for a few moments before she shook her head, gesturing for her neighbor to go back inside. “It’s fine, Michelle. Just your typical commitment phobe meltdown, no cause for concern.”

Lip blew out a loud breath, chagrined. He waited quietly as Michelle shot him one last nasty look and went back inside her apartment. Once she was gone, he turned to Amanda to see what she would do.

Eventually, she rolled her eyes, pushing the door open wider. “Get inside, already. You’re freaking out the neighbors.”

Lip smiled cautiously, bending down to scoop up his bag and follow her in. He tossed it next to Amanda’s textbooks on her small kitchen table, taking a seat on a nearby stool.

“So, to sum up,” Amanda said smartly, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You like me, but it scares you. You like school, but it scares you. You want a real future, but the thought of it scares you. How’m I doing?”

Lip hung his head, pressing his hands against his temples. “Guilty on all counts.”

Amanda stepped closer, settling between his legs and running a hand lightly through his hair. “So what are you gonna do about it? Run away?”

Lip shook his head, grabbing hold of her hips and pulling her in, holding her in place with his thighs. He pushed her glasses up over her hair and slumped slightly to rest his cheek against hers. “We saw Monica.”

Amanda pulled back, eyes widening in surprise at the abrupt subject change. “How?”

“She came to the house after you left, Ian called her.” Lip looked down, watching his finger catch and twist around Amanda’s belt loop. “It sucked.”

Amanda bit her lip, bringing a hand to his face in sympathy. “She’s already gone again?”

Lip nodded, pressing his lips together tightly. “He asked her to stay, but she wouldn’t.”

Amanda leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “I’m sorry, Lip.”

He shrugged, brushing off the old hurt. “She's done it before, and she'll do it again. Made me think, though. I don’t wanna be like that.”

“Be like what?”

“Someone who runs.” Lip slipped his arms around her back, tightening his hold on her as he whispered into the quiet space between them. “Someone who just says 'fuck it' because something's hard. Someone who won’t take help from the people who care about them.”

They breathed together, pressed close, until Amanda broke the silence with careful hope in her voice. “So you’re sticking around? In school, I mean.”

“Yeah. In school.” Lip inhaled a long breath, bringing his hands up to frame her face. “And with you, if you’ll let me.”

Amanda leaned forward, brushing her lips against his in answer. Lip moved closer to capture her mouth more fully, feeling the tension in his body release for the first time in days. He wrapped his arms around her again, coming off the stool and pulling her tight against him.

"Come on," Amanda whispered, turning away and grasping his hand to pull him toward the bedroom.

"Actually," Lip hedged, groaning in aggravation as he rubbed his free hand over his eyes. "As much as I'd love to, I gotta get to work. Barton's paper has to be in by end of day Monday, and I haven't even started the outline yet."

Amanda raised a brow. "You’re turning down sex to write a paper?"

"I know." Lip sighed deeply. "I don't know who I am anymore, either."

Amanda shot him a mischievous smile as she dropped his hand and walked over to her laptop. Flipping the screen up, she hit a few keys and turned it around to face him. Lip's eyes widened as he read quickly over the page, realizing what it was.

"Full outline with annotated citations, based on the concept we talked about last week.” Amanda watched him warily, as if unsure of his reaction. “You still have to write the actual paper, but I figured this would save you a lot of leg work."

Lip gaped at her. "When did you-"

"A few days ago. It's what I was trying to bring you at Fiona's."

Lip stepped forward to grab her up in his arms, yanking her off her feet and kissing her hard, laughing at the startled squeak that came out of her mouth. He kissed her once more before pulling back, looking at her seriously. "I don't deserve you."

"No, you don't." Amanda’s smile softened as she wrapped her arms around his neck, genuine happiness shining from her eyes and finding its reflection in his. "But you will."

*

Fiona opened the front door, smiling wide at the sight of Jasmine on the porch, clutching a bottle of champagne in her hands. “You made it!”

“Of course.” Jasmine offered the bottle to Fiona, winking playfully. “Can’t pass up a Gallagher party, especially when it’s a chance to celebrate something so great.”

Fiona’s eyes widened as she looked down to read the label. “Damn, this is good shit.”

“Only the best for my employees.”

Fiona couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking her face as she stepped out of the doorway, waving Jasmine in. “I’m really glad ya made it. Everyone isn’t here yet, but they should be soon. No kids tonight?”

“Nope, it’s Hal’s weekend.” Jasmine’s eyes scanned over the living room, a slight smile appearing on her lips. “Man, this place looks just the same. It’s nice to be back.”

“Fi!” Liam came barreling in from the kitchen, crashing into Fiona’s legs. “Your friend’s here, can we eat the pie now?”

Fiona shook her head. “We gotta wait for everyone else, sweetface.” She looked over at Jasmine, addressing her unasked question. “I picked up some pies from the diner I work at. Liam’s excited to eat ‘em, aren’t ya buddy?”

“Yeah!” Liam paused, squinting at her in confusion. “But Amy and Gemma are already here. How many more people are comin’?”

Fiona crouched down, rubbing a hand briskly over his head. “Lots. I think Yevgeny is on his way.”

“Yes!” Liam pumped his fist, heading back for the kitchen. “Amy, Gemma, Yev’s coming!”

Fiona looked back up to see Jasmine shaking her head in wonder. “He’s so big. And I don’t recognize any of those names.”

Fiona smiled, gesturing for her to follow as she headed for the kitchen. “It’s like baby central around here lately, lots of new additions.”

“Hey Jasmine!” Kevin greeted her from his place at the kitchen table, hovering over Amy and Gemma in their twin Bumbo chairs. “Long time, no see.”

“Wow, are those yours?” Jasmine stepped over to the table to get a closer look, smiling as she watched Liam amuse the girls with a playfight between his action figures. “Good work.”

Kevin grinned as he scooped out a spoonful of pears from a jar. “I know, right? They’re the most beautiful girls in the world. Though all the credit for that goes to my beautiful wife.”

“I force him to say shit like that,” Veronica cut in as she sauntered down the stairs. She eyed Jasmine closely, taking in her more polished look before her face relaxed into a smile. “Good to see you, Jasmine. Heard you’re hooking my girl up with a bombass job.”

“That’s the plan. And it’s good to see you, too.” Jasmine looked around the kitchen before settling her eyes on Fiona again. “So where’s this mysterious person you want me to meet?”

Fiona opened the refrigerator to place the champagne inside, grabbing two bottles of beer from the side rail and offering one to Jasmine. “Should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the front door opened. Peeking into the living room, she smiled as she saw Mandy and Svetlana walking in, Svetlana carrying Yevgeny on her hip.

“Hey, perfect timing!” Fiona gestured for them to come into the kitchen. “Toss your coats on the dryer and grab a drink.”

“Svet, we brought you Dominick’s chair,” Kevin called. He reached around Veronica and Gemma to place a third Bumbo chair on the table, gesturing to it proudly. “Yev can hang with the girls.”

Svetlana smiled, setting Yevgeny on the washer to remove his coat and hat. “You want to play with friends, Zhenya?” She got him settled in his chair, placing a kiss against his head before she took off her own coat, placing it carefully on top of the pile. She turned to Fiona with a raised brow, placing her hands on her hips. “Mandy say you want me to meet someone.”

Fiona handed her a beer, turning back to see Jasmine already eyeing Svetlana with interest. “This is Jasmine, my new boss. Jasmine, this is Svetlana.”

Svetlana’s eyes swept over Jasmine, no doubt noticing the expensive clothing and accessories. “New boss?”

“Yep, Jasmine owns an escort service.” Fiona nodded imploringly as Svetlana’s eyes narrowed. “A _legit_ escort service, and I’m gonna be helpin’ with the business side. She’s also lookin’ for someone to help her manage her escorts.”

“You have experience with that sort of thing?” Jasmine asked Svetlana, her voice pitched oddly low.

Svetlana shrugged, brushing her silky hair back off her shoulders as her eyes zeroed in on Jasmine’s. She twisted the cap off her bottle and took a long swallow before answering. “I have experience with many things.”

Fiona met Mandy’s amused gaze as the other two women continued to watch each other, tension building between them. Trying to control her urge to laugh, Fiona cut in. “Why don’t you two go sit down in the living room and discuss how you could...help each other out? We’ll keep an eye on Yev.”

Fiona smiled as they followed her suggestion, keeping their eyes trained on each other as they settled onto the couch and began speaking in low tones. She turned her attention back to Mandy with a chuckle, coming to rest beside her with their backs to the counter and bumping their shoulders together comfortably. “Well, that went better than I could have imagined.”

Mandy laughed, shaking her head. “No kidding. Did you know your boss is into women?”

“I had my suspicions. I know her from a few years back, there were some hints in that direction.” Fiona paused, looking around as she realized something was missing. “Speakin’ of gay, where’s Ian and Mickey?”

Mandy smirked. “They’re a little tied up. We were all gonna come together, but me and Lana got sick of waiting for them to come out of their room. They’ll probably be here soon.”

Fiona raised a brow. “Everything went good, then?”

“Yeah.” Mandy smiled, tugging on a strand of hair. “Haven’t seen them look that happy in awhile. It was nice.”

“Mandy!” Debbie called, stomping down the stairs, Carl following close behind. “Thank god you’re here.”

Fiona shot her a look of faux offense. “What, the rest of us aren’t cool enough for ya?”

“Nope.” Debbie laughed, bumping her hip as she passed by her to grab a drink. She emerged from the refrigerator with two bottles in hand, shooting Fiona a sly look.

“One,” Fiona said sternly. “I mean it.”

Debbie nodded, grabbing Mandy’s hand and pulling her towards the living room stairs. “Come on, I gotta talk to you.”

Mandy shot Fiona a parting smile over her shoulder, following Debbie without protest. Fiona took another long drink of her beer, glancing over at Carl as he came to stand beside her.

“How was community service today?”

Carl shrugged, reaching behind her to grab a handful of potato chips from the bowl sitting out on the counter. “Fine. Just the same shit, pickin’ up trash by the highway.” He smiled lecherously as he popped a couple chips into his mouth. “There’s a girl in my group who totally has the hots for me. I’ll be hittin’ that in no time.”

Fiona groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. “Oh god, it never ends. You and me, we’re havin’ a talk tomorrow.”

Carl’s eyes widened as he took a step away from her. “Fi, I don’t need the sex talk, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, you’re gettin’ it anyway.” Fiona grimaced. “It’s gonna suck for both of us, but it’s gotta be done.”

“I already know everything!” Carl protested. At her unimpressed stare, he changed tactics. “Can’t I talk to Ian about it instead?”

“Oh, you will,” Fiona promised, slinging an arm over his shoulders and pulling him close again. “Ian, Lip, Mickey, Kev. Anyone I can think of, I’m sendin’ for ya. We’re gonna drill this shit into your head, I don’t need you gettin’ some poor girl pregnant.”

Carl slumped over in defeat. “Fuck.”

Fiona smirked, opening her mouth to tease him further when her eyes were drawn to the living room as she sensed a shift in the air. She wasn’t surprised to see Jimmy standing in the entryway, watching her with a half smile on his face.

“He’s back _again_?” Carl asked. He crossed his arms over his chest, moving to stand half in front of her. “You want me to get rid of him?”

Fiona chuckled, scrubbing a hand through Carl’s hair. “I think I can handle it, but thanks bud.” She set her beer down and walked over to Jimmy, aware of the multiple sets of eyes tracking her movements.

“Old problem?” Jasmine asked from her place close to Svetlana on the couch, raising her eyebrows at Fiona.

Fiona nodded sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ear when the movement shook it loose. Turning to Jimmy, she forced a smile. “Hey.”

Jimmy smiled back cautiously, peering around at the unexpected crowd. “Having a party?”

“Yeah.” Fiona stepped past him to grab her coat off the rack, waving her hand toward the door. “Come on outside, I need to talk to you, and I don’t wanna do it in front of all these nosy assholes.”

Jimmy followed her out quietly amid cries of protest from inside, taking a seat next to her on the top step of the porch. Fiona stared out at the street, trying to compose her thoughts and at a loss for where to start.

“I’m getting the feeling I’m not gonna like this,” Jimmy finally said, breaking her out of her paralysis.

“Probably not.” Fiona turned to look at his profile, a wistful smile settling on her lips. “It’s been really good to see you again.”

Jimmy turned to her with a raised brow, surprised. “You say that like I’m not sticking around.”

“I didn’t even know if you were alive,” Fiona continued as his face twisted with guilt. “You were just...gone. You takin’ off on me like that, it hit me harder than I thought. I’m only just puttin’ it together, how much that fed into all the bad shit that happened with me.”

“Fiona, I’m sorry, I-”

Fiona shook her head. “I don’t need any more apologies. It’s on me, really. But I’m glad you came back, gave me a chance to get some closure.”

“Closure?” Jimmy frowned, turning away.

“Yeah.” Fiona ran a finger over the outside seam of her jeans, chuckling to herself. “It’s kind of a big deal in recovery. Never thought I’d buy into that stuff so much, but I can see it now, how it helps.”

“Fiona, I can explain everything that happened.”

Fiona shook her head. “You don’t need to. It doesn’t matter now.”

Jimmy’s frown deepened, his eyes clouding over. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

Fiona gazed out at the familiar sights of her neighborhood, comforted by the thumping bass of a car stereo down the block and the dull blue light shining from the window of the house across the street. “Because it’s not gonna work.”

“How can you know that?” Jimmy asked, a pleading note entering his voice.

“We want different things, Jimmy. Always have.”

Jimmy reached over to grip her hand in his. “All I want is you.”

Fiona shook her head, knowing it wasn’t true, even if he believed it. She took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. "I’ll tell you what I want. I wanna see Lip finish college. I wanna help Ian get stable and figure out what’s next. Be there for Debbie and cheer her on when she graduates, and help Carl come up with somethin' to do with himself that doesn't involve crime and punishment. I wanna be here every minute while Liam grows up, find out who he's gonna be. And I wanna be with someone who wants all those things, too.” Fiona turned to him, noting the way his face had dropped as she talked. “You wanna do all that with me?"

Jimmy swallowed hard, taking his hand back to run it over his face and through his hair. "I care about your family, Fiona. I do."

"I know that.” Fiona smiled sadly. “But I also know this isn't the life you want, not really. We could try this again, probably have fun for a little while. But we both know you'll get restless, and you'll need to go. And I won't go with you."

Jimmy sighed, resting his arms on his legs. “So that’s it? We just give it up?”

“I think we have to.” Fiona ran a hand through her hair. “I need to move on, and I need you to let me.”

Jimmy turned to her again, something like desperation in his expression. “I love you, Fiona.”

Fiona smiled, leaning over to kiss him softly as tears came to her eyes, a few escaping down her cheek. “I love you, too...whatever the hell your name is.”

Jimmy chuckled sadly, looking down at the porch steps. “Angela asked me to tell you sorry. For all the lies and secrets. She really liked talking with you.”

“I liked talkin’ to her too,” Fiona replied. “Tell her no hard feelings. I know it’s all your fault.”

Jimmy smiled weakly, reaching up to grip her face in his hands and gazing at her seriously. “You really want this?”

Fiona nodded. “You gotta let me go.”

“Okay,” Jimmy whispered, kissing her one more time before abruptly pulling away, standing from the steps. He shot her a sad smile as he started to back down the walkway. “Goodbye, Fiona.”

Fiona smiled tremulously, watching as he got into his car, throwing one last look in her direction before he drove away. She felt the tears leaking down her face but did nothing to stop them, letting herself feel it. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and wiped her hands over her cheeks, attempting to compose herself before going back inside.

“Fiona?” Ian’s voice broke into her thoughts. She moved her hands out of the way, looking up to see Ian and Mickey walking toward the house, hands clasped together between them. “What’s goin’ on, are you okay?”

“Whose ass do I need to kick?” Mickey added, glancing around suspiciously.

Fiona laughed, cheered by the sight of them. “No one, I’m fine. Just havin’ a weepy moment. It’s been a long day.”

Mickey cocked an eyebrow. “Thought you had good news.”

“I do.” Fiona grinned, eyes floating down to where their fingers were twisted around each other. “Looks like I’m not the only one.”

They both smiled, Mickey quickly trying to cover his by reaching his free hand into his pocket for a cigarette. Fiona watched in amusement as he attempted to light it with one hand, apparently unwilling to let go of Ian.

“I do have news,” Ian said, meeting her eyes steadily. “I’m goin’ home.”

Fiona’s eyes widened, looking back and forth between him and Mickey as she caught his meaning. “You sure? You know you can stay here as long as you want. Both of you.”

“I know.” Ian looked over at Mickey, some silent communication passing between them before he turned back to Fiona. “And we appreciate the offer, but we’re ready to be back in our own place. I think it’ll be good for me. For all of us.”

Fiona smiled through her sadness. “If that’s what you want, then I’m happy for ya. Just don’t be strangers.”

“We’ll be around plenty, Fi, I promise.” Ian grinned, eyes twinkling in a way Fiona hadn’t seen in months. “I’m not gonna be able to keep Mickey away.”

Fiona laughed as Mickey forced an unconvincing scoff, taking in the way his eyes slid to the side and his cheeks reddened slightly. She stood from the porch, heaving a big sigh and gesturing for them to follow her inside. “Come on, it’s time to celebrate. I brought your favorites from the diner.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Mickey muttered, tossing the remains of his cigarette on the sidewalk and tugging Ian along to follow her.

Fiona pushed the front door open again, greeted by the sight of everyone gathered near the windows in the living room, conversation suspended. Fiona rolled her eyes. “Show’s over, folks. Time for pie.”

“Pie time, yes!” Liam shouted, taking off like a shot for the kitchen.

Fiona laughed, waving her arms after him to encourage everyone to follow. She went to the stove, pulling the pies from inside and passing them over to Mandy and Debbie to set on the table. Turning to the refrigerator, she grabbed the bottle of champagne, coming around the counter. “Bartender, a little help?”

Veronica grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Amy’s head before passing her over to Kevin, helping him balance one twin on each leg. “Happy to be of service.”

Fiona set a stack of cups on the table and then stopped, distracted by the ding of her phone. She grabbed it from her pocket, smiling when she saw it was a text from Lip, returning her message from earlier.

_Movin’ on up, huh? Proud of you_

Fiona felt tears pricking her eyes again, smiling when another message came through immediately after.

_Celebrating?_

Fiona took a picture of Veronica struggling with the champagne bottle, sending it off in answer. She laughed when Lip quickly sent one in return, him and Amanda hidden behind a laptop and a stack of books.

_Yeah, we’re having a blast over here, too_

Fiona looked up when the pop of the cork finally sounded, her family’s cheers bringing a grin to her face. She tucked her phone away and grabbed the stack of cups, holding them out one at a time for Veronica to pour in the champagne, then passing them around the table. She looked around to make sure everyone had one in hand before raising her own.

“Alright, time for a toast. To-”

The back door crashed open suddenly, everyone turning in surprise to see Frank stumbling in. “You having a party?”

Carl looked at Frank sympathetically, taking in his dirty clothes and sad demeanor. He shot Fiona an imploring look. “Yeah, Fiona got a new job.”

“Well, that’s great!” Frank looked around the room, gauging his audience before he started up again. “You know I’m always one to celebrate my kids doing their part in the labor force. The American dream was designed for people like us! Pass me a cup.”

Fiona rolled her eyes, deciding it wasn’t worth the fight. “Here ya go, Frank. Sit down and shut up.” She passed him her cup, grabbing another and pouring in a splash of champagne. “Anyway, what was I was sayin’?”

“You were makin' a toast!” Liam piped up helpfully, waving his cup of apple juice in her direction.

“Yeah, I was.” Fiona gazed out at her family as they looked at her expectantly, cups raised. “I guess I just wanted to say- I’m really glad you’re all here. To us!”

“To us!” echoed around the room, everyone clinking their plastic cups together, Liam running around the kitchen to bump his against every other cup in the room.

“Now let’s eat pie,” Fiona finished, laughing as everyone scrambled for a plate, fighting over the pies sitting out on the table. She leaned back against the counter, taking another sip of her champagne and reveling in the contentment she could feel settling in her chest. She smiled when Veronica came to stand beside her.

“You happy?”

“Yeah.” Fiona’s smile widened, knowing she truly meant it. “Yeah, I really am.”

“You should be.” Veronica wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning comfortably against her as they both watched the chaos. “Look at this, everyone in this room. You did good.”

Fiona let her eyes drift around the kitchen, following Veronica’s suggestion and taking it all in. Svetlana and Jasmine laughing together in the corner, ignoring Frank as he sat nearby on the ground, sipping on a stolen beer and devouring a chunk of pie. Ian and Mickey leaned against each other on the stairs, looking up at Carl in amusement as he towered over them, smirking. Mandy and Debbie huddled close at the kitchen table, exchanging whispers as they ate their pie, sitting across from Kevin and Liam holding court with the babies. Her thoughts wandered back to Lip, back with Amanda and catching up on school. She let it wash over her, everything they’d made it through, immense pride thrumming through her veins.

"Yeah, I did pretty good, huh? It’s kind of incredible.” She turned to Veronica, grinning through happy tears. “Almost like a dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wanted to take a moment to send out a heartfelt thanks to everyone who has read and supported this fic. The encouragement has been much appreciated, and we've loved hearing your thoughts and reactions as the story unfolded.

**Author's Note:**

> For questions about _The Luck You Got_ , please come visit us at [rewrite headquarters](http://theluckyougotfic.tumblr.com/). Wondering how we wrote it? Check out [the basics](http://theluckyougotfic.tumblr.com/post/123464086069/the-luck-you-got-the-basics). Also, please be sure to stop by our [appreciation page](http://theluckyougotfic.tumblr.com/team%20tlyg) to learn about everyone involved in helping us make the rewrite the best it can possibly be.


End file.
